;iTY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

:le: 


POEMS 


BY 

GEORGE  MEREDITH 


•     « 

i     * 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1908 


COPYRIGHT   1897,    1898,   BY 
GEORGE   MEREDITH 


<  t   •     c   •  1 


•  4  «     •    •    < 


Ai 


■s 


-ao 


CONTENTS 


Pasb 

-Modern  Love 3 

The  Sage  Enamoured  and  the  Honest  Lady 53 

Love  is  Winged 69 

Ask,  is  Love  Divine 70 

Joy  is  Fleet 71 

The  Lesson  of  Grief 72 

The  Woods  of  Westermain 73 

A  Ballad  of  Past  Meridian 89 

The  Day  op  the  Daughter  of  Hades 90 

The  Lark  Ascending Ill 

Phoebus  with  Admetus 116 

Melampus 121 

-■Love  in  the  Valley 127 

The  Three  Singers  to  Young  Blood 136 

The  Orchard  and  the  Heath 140 

Earth  and  Man 143 

A  Ballad  of  Fair  Ladies  in  Revolt 152 

'^^  Juggling  Jerry 168 

The  Old  Chartist 173 

Martin's  Puzzle 179 

>'X   Marian 183 

SONNETS 

iiUciFER  IN  Starlight 185 

The  Star  Sirius 186 

Sense  and  Spirit 187 

Earth's  Secret 188 


%J><m  tf 


VI  CONTEXTS 

Pass 

The  Spirit  of  Shakespeare 189,  190 

Internal  Harmony 191 

Grace  and  Love 192 

Appreciation 193 

The  Discipline  op  Wisdom 194 

The  State  of  Age 195 

Progress 196 

The  World's  Advance 197 

A  Certain  People 198 

The  Garden  of  Epicurus 199 

A  Later  Alexandrian 200 

An  Orson  of  the  Muse 201 

The  Point  of  Taste 202 

Camelus  Saltat 203,  204 

To  J.  M S^y 205 

To  a  Friend  Lost 206 

My  Theme 207,  208 

Time  and  Sentiment 209 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC  LIFE 

The  Two  Masks 211 

Archduchess  Anne 212 

The  Song  of  Theodolinda 230 

A  Preaching  from  a  Spanish  Ballad 237 

The  Young  Princess 242 

King  Harald's  Trance 254 

Whimper  of  Sympathy 258 

Young  Reynard 259 

Manfred 260 

Hernani 261 

The  Nuptials  of  Attila 26fi 

Aneukin's  Harp 282 

Men  and  Man 289 

The  Last  Contention 291 


CONTENTS  Til 

Paob 

Periander 294 

Solon 301 

Bellerophon 304 

Phaethon 307 

A  READING  OF  EARTH 

Seed-Time 315 

Hard  Weather 318 

The  Soith-Wester 322 

The  Tuhush  in  Febrcart 327 

The  Api'easement  of  Demeter 334 

Earth  and  a  Wedded  Woman 340 

Mother  to  Babe 343 

Woodland  Peace 344 

The  Question  Whither 345 

Outer  and  Inner 347 

Nature  and  Life 349 

Dirge  in  Woods 350 

A  Faith  on  Trial 351 

Change  in  Recurrence    372 

Hymn  to  Colour 374 

Meditation  under  Stars 379 

Woodman  and  Echo 382 

The  Wisdom  of  Eld 384 

Earth's  Preference 385 

Society 386 

Winter  Heavens 387 

Wind  on  the  Lyre 388 

The  Youthful  Quest 389 

The  Empty  Purse 390 

Jump-to-Glory  Jank 414 

ODES 

To  the  Comic  Spirit 427 

Youth  in  Memory 440 


Vlll  CONTENTS 

VERSES 

Paob 

Penetration  and  Trust 449 

Night  of  Frost  in  Mat 450 

The  Teaching  of  the  Node 453 

Breath  of  the  Briar 455 

Empedocles 456 

To  Colonel  Charles 457 

England  before  the  Storm 461 

Tardi  Spring 463 

EPITAPHS     1^^^ 

M.  M 465 

The  Lady  CM 465 

J.  C.  M 465 

Islet  the  Dachs 466 

Gordon  of  Khartoum 466 

The  Emperor  Frederick  of  our  Time 466 

The  Year's  Sheddinqb 467 


THE  PROMISE   IN  DISTUEBANCB 

How  low  when  angels  fall  their  black  descent, 
Our  primal  thunder  tells :  known  is  the  pain 
Of  music,  that  nigh  throning  wisdom  went, 
And  one  false  note  cast  wailful  to  the  insane. 
Now  seems  the  language  heard  of  Love  as  rain 
To  make  a  mire  where  fruitfulness  was  meant. 
The  golden  harp  gives  out  a  jangled  strain, 
Too  like  revolt  from  heaven's  Omnipotent. 
But  listen  in  the  thought ;  so  may  there  come 
Conception  of  a  newly-added  chord, 
Commanding  space  beyond  where  ear  has  home. 
In  labour  of  the  trouble  at  its  fount, 
Leads  Life  to  an  intelligible  Lord 
The  rebel  discords  up  the  sacred  mount. 


MODERN  LOVE 


By  this  he  knew  she  wept  with  waking  eyes : 

That,  at  his  hand's  light  quiver  by  her  head, 

The  strange  low  sobs  that  shook  their  common  bed, 

Were  called  into  her  with  a  sharp  surprise, 

And  strangled  mute,  like  little  gaping  snakes, 

Dreadfully  venomous  to  him.     She  lay 

Stone-still,  and  the  long  darkness  flowed  away 

With  muffled  pulses.     Then,  as  midnight  makes 

Her  giant  heart  of  Memory  and  Tears 

Drink  the  pale  drug  of  silence,  and  so  beat 

Sleep's  heavy  measure,  they  from  head  to  feet 

Were  moveless,  looking  through  their  dead  black  years, 

By  vain  regret  scrawled  over  the  blank  wall. 

Like  sculptured  effigies  they  might  be  seen 

Upon  their  marriage-tomb,  the  sword  between ; 

Each  wishing  for  the  sword  that  severs  all. 


MODEKN  LOVE 


II 

It  ended,  and  the  morrow  brought  the  task. 
Her  eyes  were  guilty  gates,  that  let  him  in 
By  shutting  all  too  zealous  for  their  sin : 
Each  sucked  a  secret,  and  each  wore  a  mask. 
But,  oh,  the  bitter  taste  her  beauty  had ! 
He  sickened  as  at  breath  of  poison-flowers : 
A  languid  humour  stole  among  the  hours, 
And  if  their  smiles  encouutered,  he  went  mad, 
And  raged  deep  inward,  till  the  light  was  brown 
Before  his  vision,  and  the  world  forgot, 
Looked  wicked  as  some  old  dull  murder-spot. 
A  star  with  lurid  beams,  she  seemed  to  crown 
The  pit  of  infamy :  and  then  again 
He  fainted  on  his  vengefulness,  and  strove 
To  ape  the  magnanimity  of  love, 
And  smote  himself,  a  shuddering  heap  of  pain. 


MODERN   LOVE  5 


m 

This  was  the  woman ;  what  now  of  the  man  ? 
But  pass  him.     If  he  comes  beneath  a  heel, 
He  shall  be  crushed  until  he  cannot  feel, 
Or,  being  callous,  haply  till  he  can. 
But  he  is  nothing :  —  nothing  ?     Only  mark 
The  rich  light  striking  out  from  her  on  him  1 
Ha !  what  a  sense  it  is  when  her  eyes  swim 
Across  the  man  she  singles,  leaving  dark 
All  else !     Lord  God,  who  mad'st  the  thing  so  fair, 
See  that  I  am  drawn  to  her  even  now ! 
It  cannot  be  such  harm  on  her  cool  brow 
To  put  a  kiss  ?    Yet  if  I  meet  him  there  ! 
But  she  is  mine !     Ah,  no !  I  know  too  well 
I  claim  a  star  whose  light  is  overcast : 
ll  claim  a  phantom-woman  in  the  Past. 
[The  hour  has  struck,  though  I  heard  not  the  bell ! 


MODERN   LOVE 


nr 

All  other  joy  of  life  he  strove  to  warm, 
And  maguify,  and  catch  them  to  his  lip : 
But  they  had  suffered  shipwreck  with  the  ship, 
And  gazed  upon  him  sallow  from  the  storm. 
Or  if  Delusion  came,  't  was  but  to  show 
The  coming  minute  mock  the  one  that  went. 
Cold  as  a  mountain  in  its  star-pitched  tent, 
Stood  high  Philosophy,  less  friend  than  foe : 
Whom  self-caged  Passion,  from  its  prison-bars, 
Is  always  watching  with  a  wondering  hate. 
Not  till  the  fire  is  dying  in  the  grate, 
Look  we  for  any  kinship  with  the  stars. 
Oh,  wisdom  never  comes  when  it  is  gold, 
And  the  great  price  we  pay  for  it  full  worth: 
•  We  have  it  only  when  we  are  half  earth. 
Little  avails  that  coinage  to  the  old  I 


MODERN   LOVE 


A  message  from  her  set  his  brain  aflame. 

A  world  of  household  matters  filled  her  mind, 

Wherein  he  saw  hypocrisy  designed  : 

She  treated  him  as  something  that  is  tame, 

And  but  at  other  provocation  bites. 

Familiar  was  her  shoulder  in  the  glass, 

Through  that  dark  rain :  yet  it  may  come  to  pass 

That  a  changed  eye  finds  such  familiar  sights 

More  keenly  tempting  than  new  loveliness. 

I  The  '  What  has  been  '  a  moment  seemed  his  own: 
The  splendours,  mysteries,  dearer  because  known, 
Nor  less  divine :  Love's  inmost  sacredness, 
Called  to  him,  '  Come  ! '  —  In  his  restraining  start, 

'  Eyes  nurtured  to  be  looked  at,  scarce  could  see 
A  wave  of  the  great  waves  of  Destiny 
Convulsed  at  a  checked  impulse  of  the  heart. 


8  MODERN  LOVE 


V 


It  chanced  his  lips  did  meet  her  forehead  cooL 
She  had  no  blush,  but  slanted  down  her  eye. 
Shamed  nature,  then,  confesses  love  can  die  : 
And  most  she  punishes  the  tender  fool 
Who  will  believe  what  honours  her  the  most ! 
Dead  !  is  it  dead  ?     She  has  a  pulse,  and  flow 
Of  tears,  the  price  of  blood-drops,  as  I  know, 
For  whom  the  midnight  sobs  around  Love's  ghost, 
Since  then  I  heard  her,  and  so  will  sob  on. 
The  love  is  here ;  it  has  but  changed  its  aim. 
O  bitter  barren  woman !  what 's  the  name  ? 
The  name,  the  name,  the  new  name  thou  hast  won  ? 
Behold  me  striking  the  world's  coward  stroke  I 
That  will  I  not  do,  though  the  sting  is  dire. 
—  Beneath  the  surface  this,  while  by  the  fire 
They  sat,  she  laughing  at  a  quiet  joke. 


MODERN  LOYB  9 


Vll 

She  issues  radiant  from  her  dressing-room, 

Like  one  prepared  to  scale  an  upper  sphere : 

—  By  stirring  up  a  lower,  much  I  fear ! 

How  deftly  that  oiled  barber  lays  his  bloom  ! 

That  long-shanked  dapper  Cupid  with  frisked  curls, 

Can  make  known  women  torturingly  fair  ; 

The  gold-eyed  serpent  dwelling  in  rich  hair, 

Awakes  beneath  his  magic  whisks  and  twirls. 

His  art  can  take  the  eyes  from  out  my  head, 

Until  I  see  with  eyes  of  other  men ; 

While  deeper  knowledge  crouches  in  its  den, 

And  sends  a  spark  up  :  —  is  it  true  we  are  wed  ? 

Yea  !  filthiness  of  body  is  most  vile. 

But  faithlessness  of  heart  I  do  hold  worse. 

The  former,  it  were  not  so  great  a  curse 

To  read  on  the  steel-mirror  of  her  smile. 


10  MODERN   LOVE 


VIII 

Yet  it  was  plain  she  struggled,  and  that  salt 

Of  righteous  feeling  made  her  pitiful. 

Poor  twisting  worm,  so  queenly  beautiful! 

Where  came  the  cleft  between  us  ?  whose  the  fault  7 

My  tears  are  on  thee,  that  have  rarely  dropped 

As  balm  for  any  bitter  wound  of  mine : 

My  breast  will  open  for  thee  at  a  sign! 

But,  no:  we  are  two  reed-pipes,  coarsely  stopped: 

The  God  once  filled  them  with  his  mellow  breath ; 

And  they  were  music  till  he  flung  them  down, 

Used !  used  !     Hear  now  the  discord-loving  clown 

Puff  his  gross  spirit  in  them,  worse  than  death! 

I  do  not  know  myself  without  thee  more : 

In  this  unholy  battle  I  grow  base: 

If  the  same  soul  be  under  the  same  face, 

Speak,  and  a  taste  of  that  old  time  restore  I 


MODERN   LOVE  U 


He  felt  the  wild  beast  in  him  betweenwhiles 

So  masterfully  rude,  that  he  would  grieve 

To  see  the  helpless  delicate  thing  receive 

His  guardianship  through  certain  dark  defiles. 

Had  he  not  teeth  to  rend,  and  hunger  too  ? 

But  still  he  spared  her.     Once  :  *  Have  you  no  fear  ?* 

He  said :  't  was  dusk  ;  she  in  his  grasp  ;  none  near. 

She  laughed :  '  No,  surely  ;  am  I  not  with  you  ?  ' 

And  uttering  that  soft  starry  '  you,'  she  leaned 

Her  gentle  body  near  him,  looking  up  ; 

And  from  her  eyes,  as  from  a  poison-cup, 

He  drank  until  the  flittering  eyelids  screened. 

Devilish  malignant  witch !  and  oh,  young  beam 

Of  heaven's  circle-glory !     Here  thy  shape 

To  squeeze  like  an  intoxicating  grape  — 

I  might,  and  yet  thou  goest  safe,  supreme. 


12  MODERN  LOVE 


But  where  began  the  change  ;  and  what 's  my  crime  ? 
The  wretch  condemned,  who  has  not  been  arraigned, 

1  Chafes  at  his  sentence.     Shall  I,  unsustained, 
Drag  on  Love's  nerveless  body  thro'  all  time  ? 
I  must  have  slept,  since  now  I  wake.     Prepare, 
You  lovers,  to  know  Love  a  thing  of  moods : 
;  Not  like  hard  life,  of  laws.     In  Love's  deep  woods, 
I  dreamt  of  loyal  Life  :  —  the  offence  is  there  ! 
Love's  jealous  woods  about  the  sun  are  curled; 
At  least,  the  sun  far  brighter  there  did  beam.  — 
j  My  crime  is,  that  the  puppet  of  a  dream, 
I  plotted  to  be  worthy  of  the  world. 
Oh,  had  I  with  my  darling  helped  to  mince 
The  facts  of  life,  you  still  had  seen  me  go 
With  hindward  feather  and  with  forward  toe, 
Her  much-adored  delightful  Fairy  Prince  1 


MODERN  LOVE  18 


zx 

Out  in  the  yellow  meadows,  where  the  bee 

Hums  by  us  with  the  honey  of  the  Spring, 

And  showers  of  sweet  notes  from  the  larks  on  wing, 

Are  dropping  like  a  noon-dew,  wander  we. 

Or  is  it  now  ?  or  was  it  then  ?  for  now, 

As  then,  the  larks  from  running  rings  pour  showers : 

The  golden  foot  of  May  is  on  the  flowers, 

And  friendly  shadows  dance  upon  her  brow. 

What 's  this,  when  Nature  swears  there  is  no  change 

To  challenge  eyesight  ?    Now,  as  then,  the  grace 

Of  heaven  seems  holding  earth  in  its  embrace. 

Nor  eyes,  nor  heart,  has  she  to  feel  it  strange  ? 

Look,  woman,  in  the  West.     There  wilt  thou  see 

An  amber  cradle  near  the  sun's  decline : 

Within  it,  featured  even  in  death  divine, 

Is  lying  a  dead  infant,  slain  by  thee. 


14  MODERN   LOVE 


XII 

I   Not  solely  that  the  Future  she  destroys, 
And  the  fair  life  which  in  the  distance  lies 
For  all  men,  beckoning  out  from  dim  rich  skies : 

i  Nor  that  the  passing  hour's  supporting  joys 

1  Have  lost  the  keen-edged  flavour,  which  begat 
Distinction  in  old  times,  and  still  should  breed 
Sweet  Memory,  and  Hope,  —  eai'th's  modest  seed, 
And  heaven's  high-prompting :  not  that  the  world  is  flat 
Since  that  soft-luring  creature  I  embraced, 
Among  the  children  of  Illusion  went  : 

\  Methinks  with  all  this  loss  I  were  content, 
If  the  mad  Past,  on  which  my  foot  is  based, 

^ere  firm,  or  might  be  blotted  :  but  the  whole 
Of  life  is  mixed  :  the  mocking  Fast  will  stay : 
And  if  I  drink  oblivion  of  a  day, 
So  shorten  I  the  stature  of  my  soul. 


MODEKN  LOVE  15 


XIII 


\  *  I  play  for  Seasons  ;  not  Eternities  ! ' 
Says  Nature,  laughing  on  her  way.     *  So  must 
All  those  whose  stake  is  nothing  more  than  dust ! ' 
And  lo,  she  wins,  and  of  her  harmonies 
She  is  full  sure !     Upon  her  dying  rose, 
Ishe  drops  a  look  of  fondness,  and  goes  by, 
Scarce  any  retrospection  in  her  eye ; 
For  she  the  laws  of  growth  most  deeply  knows, 
Whose  hands  bear,  here,  a  seed-bag  —  there,  an  urn. 
Pledged  she  herself  to  aught,  't  would  mark  her  end ! 
This  lesson  of  our  only  visible  friend, 
\Can  we  not  teach  our  foolish  hearts  to  learn  ?  , 

fe'es!  yes  !  —  but,  oh,  our  human  rose  is  fair 

surpassingly!     Lose  calmly  Love's  great  bliss, 
'  ^hen  the  renewed  for  ever  of  a  kiss 

iVhirls  life  within  the  shower  of  loosened  hair  I 


16  MODERN  LOVE 


XIV 

What  soul  would  bargain  for  a  cure  that  brings 

Contempt  the  nobler  agony  to  kill  ? 

Eather  let  me  bear  on  the  bitter  ill, 

And  strike  this  rusty  bosom  with  new  stings ! 

It  seems  there  is  another  veering  fit, 

Since  on  a  gold-haired  lady's  eyeballs  pure, 

I  looked  with  little  prospect  of  a  cure, 

The  while  her  mouth's  red  bow  loosed  shafts  of  wit. 

Just  heaven!  can  it  be  true  that  jealousy 

Has  decked  the  woman  thus  ?  and  does  her  head 

Swim  somewhat  for  possessions  forfeited  ? 

Madam,  you  teach  me  many  things  that  be. 

I  open  an  old  book,  and  there  I  find, 

Thai  *  Women  still  may  love  whom  they  deceive.' 

Such  love  I  prize  not,  madam  :  by  your  leave, 

The  game  you  play  at  is  not  to  my  mind. 


MODERN  LOVE  17 


XV 

I  think  she  sleeps  :  it  must  be  sleep,  when  low 

Hangs  that  abandoned  arm  toward  the  floor ; 

The  face  turned  with  it.     Now  make  fast  the  door. 

Sleep  on :  it  is  your  husband,  not  your  foe. 

The  Poet's  black  stage-lion  of  wronged  love, 

Frights  not  our  modern  dames  :  —  well  if  he  did ! 

Now  will  I  pour  new  light  upon  that  lid, 

Full-sloping  like  the  breasts  beneath.     '  Sweet  dove, 

Your  sleep  is  pure.     Nay,  pardon :  I  disturb. 

I  do  not  ?  good  !  '     Her  waking  infant-stare 

Grows  woman  to  the  burden  my  hands  bear : 

Her  own  handwriting  to  me  when  no  curb 

Was  left  on  Passion's  tongue.     She  trembles  through; 

A  woman's  tremble  —  the  whole  instrument :  — 

I  show  another  letter  lately  sent. 

The  words  are  very  like :  the  name  is  new. 


18  MODEJiN   LOVE 


XVI 

In  our  old  shipwrecked  days  there  was  an  hour, 
When  in  the  firelight  steadily  aglow, 
Joined  slaekly,  we  beheld  the  red  chasm  grow 
Among  the  clicking  coals.     Our  library-bower 
That  eve  was  left  to  us :  and  hushed  we  sat 
As  lovers  to  whom  Time  is  whispering. 
From  sudden-opened  doors  we  heard  them  sing : 
The  nodding  elders  mixed  good  wine  with  chat. 
Well  knew  we  that  Life's  greatest  treasure  lay 
With  us,  and  of  it  was  our  talk.     '  Ah,  yes ! 
Love  dies ! '  I  said  :  I  never  thought  it  less. 
She  yearned  to  me  that  sentence  to  unsay. 
Then  when  the  fire  domed  blackening,  I  found 
Her  cheek  was  salt  against  my  kiss,  and  swift 
Up  the  sharp  scale  of  sobs  her  breast  did  lift :  — 
Now  am  I  haunted  by  that  taste  !  that  sound  1 


MODERN   LOVE  19 


XVII 

At  dinner,  she  is  hostess,  I  am  host. 

Went  the  feast  ever  eheerfuller  ?     She  keeps 

The  Topic  over  intellectual  deeps 

In  buoyancy  afloat.  "  They  see  no  ghost. 

With  sparkling  surface-eyes  we  ply  the  ball : 
•"It  is  in  truth  a  most  contagious  game : 
'^Hiding  the  Skeleton,  shall  be  its  name. 

Such  play  as  this,  the  devils  might  appal ! 

But  here 's  the  greater  wonder ;  in  that  we 

Enamoured  of  an  acting  nought  can  tire. 

Each  other,  like  true  hypocrites,  admire  ; 

Warm-lighted  looks,  Love's  ephemerioe, 

Shoot  gaily  o'er  the  dishes  and  the  wine. 

We  waken  envy  of  our  happy  lot. 

Fast,  sweet,  and  golden,  shows  the  marriage-knot. 

Dear  guests,  you  now  have  seen  Love's  corpse-light  shine.-/ 


20  MODERN  LOVE 


XVIII 

Here  Jack  and  Tom  are  paired  with  Moll  and  Meg. 

Curved  open  to  the  river-reach  is  seen 

A  country  merry-making  on  the  green. 

Fair  space  for  signal  shakings  of  the  leg. 

That  little  screwy  fiddler  from  his  booth, 

Whence  flows  one  nut-brown  stream,  commands  the  joints 

Of  all  who  caper  here  at  various  points. 

I  have  known  rustic  revels  in  my  youth  : 

The  May-fly  pleasures  of  a  mind  at  ease. 

An  early  goddess  was  a  county  lass  : 

A  charmed  Amphion-oak  she  tripped  the  grass. 

What  life  was  that  I  lived  ?     The  life  of  these  ? 

Heavexx  keep  them  happy  !    Nature  they  seem  near. 

They  must,  I  think,  be  wiser  than  I  am  ; 

They  have  the  secret  of  the  bull  and  lamb. 

'T  is  true  that  when  we  trace  its  source,  't  is  beer. 


MODERN  LOVE  21 


XIX 


No  state  is  enviable.    To  the  luck  alone 

Of  some  few  favoured  men  I  would  put  claim. 

I  bleed,  but  her  who  wounds  I  will  not  blame. 

Have  I  not  felt  her  heart  as  't  were  my  own 

Beat  thro'  me  ?  could  I  hurt  her  ?  heaven  and  hell ! 

But  I  could  hurt  her  cruelly  !     Can  I  let 

My  Love's  old  time-piece  to  another  set, 

Swear  it  can't  stop,  and  must  for  ever  swell  ? 

Sure,  that 's  one  way  Love  drifts  into  the  mart 

Where  goat-legged  buyers  throng.     I  see  not  plain : 

My  meaning  is,  it  must  not  be  again. 

Great  God  !  the  maddest  gambler  throws  his  heart. 

If  any  state  be  enviable  on  earth, 

'T  is  yon  born  idiot's,  who,  as  days  go  by, 

Still  rubs  his  hands  before  him,  like  a  fly, 

In  a  queer  sort  of  meditative  mirth. 


22  MODERN  LOVE 


zx 

I  am  not  of  those  miserable  males 
Who  sniff  at  vice,  and,  daring  not  to  snap, 
^Do  therefore  hope  for  heaven.     I  take  the  hap 
V  Of  all  my  deeds.     The  wind  that  fills  my  sails, 
Propels  ;  but  I  am  helmsman.     Am  I  wrecked, 
I  know  the  devil  has  sufficient  weight 
To  bear  :  I  lay  it  not  on  him,  or  fate. 
Besides,  he  's  damned.     That  man  1  do  suspect 
A  coward,  who  would  burden  the  poor  deuce 
With  what  ensues  from  his  own  slipperiness. 
I  have  just  found  a  wanton-scented  tress 
In  an  old  desk,  dusty  for  lack  of  use. 
Of  days  and  nights  it  is  demonstrative, 
That,  like  some  aged  star,  gleam  luridly. 
If  for  those  times  I  must  ask  charity. 
Have  1  not  any  charity  to  give  ? 


MODERN  LOVE  23 


^ 


ZXI 


We  three  are  on  the  cedar-shadowed  lawn ; 

My  friend  being  third.     He  who  at  love  once  laughed^ 

Is  in  the  weak  rib  by  a  fatal  shaft 

Struck  through,  and  tells  his  passion's  bashful  dawn 

And  radiant  culmination,  glorious  crown, 

When  *  this '  she  said  :  went  '  thus ' :  most  wondrous  she. 

Our  eyes  grow  white,  encountering :  that  we  are  three, 

Forgetful ;  then  together  we  look  down. 

But  he  demands  our  blessing ;  is  convinced 

That  words  of  wedded  lovers  must  bring  good. 

We  question ;  if  we  dare !  or  if  we  should ! 

And  pat  him,  with  light  laugh.     We  have  not  winced. 

Next,  she  has  fallen.     Fainting  points  the  sign 

To  happy  things  in  wedlock.     When  she  wakes, 
IShe  looks  the  star  that  thro'  the  cedar  shakes: 
jHer  lost  moist  hand  clings  mortally  to  mine. 


24  MODERN   LOVE 


ZXII 

What  may  the  woman  labour  to  confess  ? 
There  is  about  her  mouth  a  nervous  twitch. 
'T  is  something  to  be  told,  or  hidden  :  —  which  ? 
I  get  a  glimpse  of  hell  in  this  mild  guess. 
She  has  desires  of  touch,  as  if  to  feel 
That  all  the  household  things  are  things  she  knew. 
She  stops  before  the  glass.     What  sight  in  view  ? 
A  face  that  seems  the  latest  to  reveal ! 
For  she  turns  from  it  hastily,  and  tossed 
Irresolute,  steals  shadow-like  to  where 
I  stand ;  and  wavering  pale  before  me  there, 
flHer  tears  fall  still  as  oak-leaves  after  frost. 
She  will  not  speak.     I  will  not  ask.     We  are 
League-sundered  by  the  silent  gulf  between. 
You  burly  lovers  on  the  village  green, 
jTours  is  a  lower,  and  a  happier  star  I 


MODERN   LOVE  25 


ZZIII 

'T  is  Christmas  weather,  and  a  country  house 
Keceives  us  :  rooms  are  full :  we  can  but  get 
An  attic-crib.     Such  lovers  will  not  fret 
At  that,  it  is  half-said.     The  great  carouse 
\  Knocks  hard  upon  the  midnight's  hollow  door, 
But  when  I  knock  at  hers,  I  see  the  pit. 
Why  did  I  come  here  in  that  dullard  fit  ? 
I  enter,  and  lie  couched  upon  the  floor. 
Passing,  I  caught  the  coverlet's  quick  beat :  — 
Come,  Shame,  burn  to  my  soul  1  and  Pride,  and  Pain^ 
Foul  demons  that  have  tortured  me,  enchain  I 
Out  in  the  freezing  darkness  the  lambs  bleat. 
The  small  bird  stiffens  in  the  low  starlight. 
I  know  not  how,  but  shuddering  as  I  slept, 
I  dreamed  a  banished  angel  to  me  crept : 
My  feet  were  nourished  on  her  breasts  all  night. 


26  MODERN  LOVE 


XXIV 

The  misery  is  greater,  as  I  live! 
To  know  her  flesh  so  pure,  so  keen  her  sense, 
That  she  does  penance  now  for  no  offence, 
Save  against  Love.     The  less  can  I  forgive  1 
The  less  can  I  forgive,  though  I  adore 
That  cruel  lovely  pallor  which  surrounds 
Her  footsteps ;  and  the  low  vibrating  sounds 
That  come  on  me,  as  from  a  magic  shore. 
Low  are  they,  but  most  subtle  to  find  out 
The  shrinking  soul.     Madam,  't  is  understood 
When  women  play  upon  their  womanhood ; 
It  means,  a  Season  gone.     And  yet  I  doubt 
But  I  am  duped.     That  nun-like  look  waylays 
My  fancy.     Oh !  I  do  but  wait  a  sign  ! 
Pluck  out  the  eyes  of  pride  !  thy  mouth  to  mine  I 
Never !  though  I  die  thirsting.     Go  thy  ways  I 


MODERN  LOVE  27 


XXV 

You  like  not  that  French  novel  ?    Tell  me  why. 
You  think  it  quite  unnatural.     Let  us  see. 
The  actors  are,  it  seems,  the  usual  three : 
Husband,  and  wife,  and  lover.     She  —  but  fie  ! 
In  England  we  '11  not  hear  of  it.     Edmond, 
The  lover,  her  devout  chagrin  doth  share ; 
Blanc-mange  and  absinthe  are  his  penitent  fare, 
Till  his  pale  aspect  makes  her  over-fond : 
So,  to  preclude  fresh  sin,  he  tries  rosbif. 
Meantime  the  husband  is  no  more  abused : 
Auguste  forgives  her  ere  the  tear  is  used. 
Then  hangeth  all  on  one  tremendous  If  :  — 
If  she  will  choose  between  them.     She  does  choose  j 
And  takes  her  husband,  like  a  proper  wife. 
Unnatural  ?    My  dear,  these  things  are  life  : 
And  life,  some  think,  is  worthy  of  the  Muse. 


28  MODEEN  LOVE 


XXVI 

Love  ere  he  bleeds,  an  eagle  in  high  skies, 
Has  earth  beneath  his  wings  :  from  reddened  eve 
He  views  the  rosy  dawn.     In  vain  they  weave 
The  fatal  web  below  while  far  he  flies. 
But  when  the  arrow  strikes  him,  there  's  a  change. 
He  moves  but  in  the  track  of  his  spent  pain, 
Whose  red  drops  are  the  links  of  a  harsh  chain, 
Binding  him  to  the  ground,  with  narrow  range. 
A  subtle  serpent  then  has  Love  become. 
I  had  the  eagle  in  my  bosom  erst : 
Henceforward  with  the  serpent  I  am  cursed. 
I  can  interpret  where  the  mouth  is  dumb. 
Speak,  and  I  see  the  side-lie  of  a  truth. 
Perchance  my  heart  may  pardon  you  this  deed : 
But  be  no  coward  :  —  you  that  made  Love  bleed, 
You  must  bear  all  the  venom  of  his  tooth  ! 


MODEKN  LOVE  29 


XXVII 

Distraction  is  the  panacea,  Sir ! 

I  hear  my  oracle  of  Medicine  say. 

Doctor  !  that  same  specific  yesterday 

I  tried,  and  the  result  will  not  deter 

A  second  trial.    Is  the  devil's  line 

Of  golden  hair,  or  raven  black,  composed  ? 

And  does  a  cheek,  like  any  sea-shell  rosed, 

Or  clear  as  widowed  sky,  seem  most  divine  ? 

No  matter,  so  I  taste  forge  tfulness. 

And  if  the  devil  snare  me,  body  and  mind. 

Here  gratefully  I  score  :  —  he  seemed  kind. 

When  not  a  soul  would  comfort  my  distress ! 

0  sweet  new  world,  in  which  I  rise  new  made ! 

0  Lady,  once  I  gave  love  :  now  I  take  ! 

Lady,  I  must  be  flattered.     Shouldst  thou  wake 

The  passion  of  a  demon,  be  not  afraid. 


30  MODEKN  LOVE 


XXVIII 

I  must  be  flattered.     The  imperious 
Desire  speaks  out.     Lady,  I  am  content 
To  play  with  you  the  game  of  Sentiment, 
And  with  you  enter  on  paths  perilous ; 
But  if  across  your  beauty  I  throw  light, 
To  make  it  threefold,  it  must  be  all  mine. 
First  secret ;  then  avowed.     For  I  must  shine 
Envied,  —  I,  lessened  in  my  proper  sight ! 
Be  watchful  of  your  beauty,  Lady  dear  ! 
How  much  hangs  on  that  lamp  you  cannot  tell. 
Most  earnestly  I  pray  you,  tend  it  well : 
And  men  shall  see  me  as  a  burning  sphere ; 
And  men  shall  mark  you  eyeing  me,  and  groan 
To  be  the  God  of  such  a  grand  sunflower  I 
I  feel  the  promptings  of  Satanic  power, 
While  you  do  homage  unto  me  alone. 


MODERN   LOVE  ^1 


XXIX 

Am  I  failing  ?    For  no  longer  can  I  cast 
A  glory  round  about  this  head  of  gold. 
Glory  she  wears,  but  springing  from  the  mould ; 
ot  like  the  consecration  of  the  Past ! 
s  my  soul  beggared  ?     Something  more  than  earth 
cry  for  still :  I  cannot  be  at  peace 
n  having  Love  upon  a  mortal  lease. 
I  cannot  take  the  woman  at  her  worth! 
Where  is  the  ancient  wealth  wherewith  I  clothed 
Our  human  nakedness,  and  could  endow 
With  spiritual  splendour  a  white  brow 
That  else  had  grinned  at  me  the  fact  I  loathed  ? 
V,  A  kiss  is  but  a  kiss  now  !  and  no  wave 
Of  a  great  flood  that  whirls  me  to  the  sea. 
But,  as  you  will !  we  '11  sit  contentedly, 
And  eat  our  pot  of  honey  on  the  grave. 


32  MODEEN  LOVE 


XXX 

What  are  we  first  ?    First,  animals  ;  and  next 

Intelligences  at  a  leap  ;  on  whom 

Pale  lies  the  distant  shadow  of  the  tomb, 

And  all  that  draweth  on  the  tomb  for  text. 

Into  which  state  comes  Love,  the  crowning  sun : 

Beneath  whose  light  the  shadow  loses  form. 

We  are  the  lords  of  life,  and  life  is  warm. 

Intelligence  and  instinct  now  are  one. 

But  nature  says  :  *  My  children  most  they  seem 

When  they  least  know  me  :  therefore  I  decree 

That  they  shall  suffer.'     Swift  doth  young  Love  flee, 

And  we  stand  wakened,  shivering  from  our  dream. 

Then  if  we  study  Nature  we  are  wise. 

Thus  do  the  few  who  live  but  with  the  day : 

The  scientific  animals  are  they.  — 

Lady,  this  is  my  sonnet  to  your  eyes. 


MODERN   LOVE  33 


/ 


XXXI 

This  golden  head  has  wit  in  it.     I  live 
Again,  and  a  far  higher  life,  near  her. 
Some  women  like  a  young  philosopher ; 
Perchance  because  he  is  diminutive. 
For  woman's  manly  god  must  not  exceed 
Proportions  of  the  natural  nursing  size. 
Great  poets  and  great  sages  draw  no  prize 
With  women  :  but  the  little  lap-dog  breed, 
Who  can  be  hugged,  or  on  a  mantel-piece 
Perched  up  for  adoration,  these  obtain 
Her  homage.     And  of  this  we  men  are  vain  ? 
Of  this  !   'T  is  ordered  for  the  world's  increase! 
Small  flattery !     Yet  she  has  that  rare  gift 
To  beauty,  Common  Sense.     I  am  approved. 
It  is  not  half  so  nice  as  being  loved, 
And  yet  I  do  prefer  it.     What 's  my  drift  ? 


34  MODERN  LOVE 


XXXII 

Full  faith  I  have  she  holds  that  rarest  gift 

To  beauty,  Common  Sense.     To  see  her  lie 

With  her  fair  visage  an  inverted  sky 

Bloom-covered,  while  the  underlids  uplift. 

Would  almost  wreck  the  faith ;  but  when  her  mouth 

(Can  it  kiss  sweetly  ?  sweetly!)  would  address 

The  inner  me  that  thirsts  for  her  no  less, 

And  has  so  long  been  languishing  in  drouth, 

I  feel  that  I  am  matched;  that  I  am  man  I 

One  restless  corner  of  my  heart  or  head, 

That  holds  a  dying  something  never  dead, 

Still  frets,  though  Nature  giveth  all  she  can. 

It  means,  that  woman  is  not,  I  opine, 

Her  sex's  antidote.     Who  seeks  the  asp 

For  serpent's  bites  ?     'T  would  calm  me  could  I  clasp 

Shrieking  Bacchantes  with  their  souls  of  wine  I 


MODERN  LOVE  35 


XXXIII 

*  In  Paris,  at  the  Louvre,  there  have  I  seen 

The  sumptuously-feathered  angel  pierce 

Prone  Lucifer,  descending.     Looked  he  fierce, 

Showing  the  fight  a  fair  one  ?    Too  serene ! 

The  young  Pharsalians  did  not  disarray 

Less  willingly  their  locks  of  floating  silk : 

That  suckling  mouth  of  his,  upon  the  milk 

Of  heaven  might  still  be  feasting  through  the  fray. 

Oh,  Raphael !  when  men  the  Fiend  do  fight. 

They  conquer  not  upon  such  easy  terms. 

Half  serpent  in  the  struggle  grow  these  worms. 

And  does  he  grow  half  human,  all  is  right.' 

This  to  my  Lady  in  a  distant  spot. 

Upon  the  theme :     While  mind  is  mastering  clay, 

Gross  clay  invades  it.     If  the  spy  you  play, 

My  wife,  read  this !    Strange  love  talk,  is  it  not  ? 


\ 


36     i^  ^  MODERN  LOVE 


XXXIV 


Madam  would  speak  with  me.    So,  now  it  comes : 
The  Deluge  or  else  Fire  !    She  's  well  j  she  thanks 
\My  husbandship.     Our  chain  on  silence  clanks. 
iTime  leers  between,  above  his  twiddling  thumbs. 
Am  I  quite  well  ?     Most  excellent  in  health  I 
The  journals,  too,  I  diligently  peruse. 
Vesuvius  is  expected  to  give  news : 
Niagara  is  no  noisier.    By  stealth 
Our  eyes  dart  scrutinizing  snakes.     She  's  glad 
I  'm  happy,  says  her  quivering  under-lip. 
*  And  are  not  you? '     *  How  can  I  be  ?  '     *  Take  ship ! 
For  happiness  is  somewhere  to  be  had.' 
'Nowhere  for  me  ! '     Her  voice  is  barely  heard. 

II  am  not  melted,  and  make  no  pretence. 
With  commonplace  I  freeze  her,  tongue  and  sense. 
Niagara  or  Vesuvius  is  deferred. 


MODERN  LOVE  37 


XXXV 


It  is  no  vulgar  nature  I  have  wived. 

Secretive,  sensitive,  she  takes  a  wound 

Deep  to  her  soul,  as  if  the  sense  had  swooned, 

And  not  a  thought  of  vengeance  had  survived. 

No  confidences  has  she :  but  relief 

Must  come  to  one  whose  suffering  is  acute. 

|j  0  have  a  care  of  natures  that  are  mute  ! 

1  They  punish  you  in  acts :  their  steps  are  brief. 
What  is  she  doing  ?    What  does  she  demand 
From  Providence  or  me  ?     She  is  not  one 
Long  to  endure  this  torpidly,  and  shun 
The  drugs  that  crowd  about  a  woman's  hand. 
At  Forfeits  during  snow  we  played,  and  I 
Must  kiss  her.     '  Well  performed ! '  I  said :  then  she : 
'  'T  is  hardly  worth  the  money,  you  agree  ? ' 

i  Save  her  ?    What  for  ?    To  act  this  wedded  lie ! 


38 


MODERN   LOVE 


XXXVI 

My  Lady  unto  Madam  makes  her  bow. 

The  charm  of  women  is,  that  even  while 

You  're  probed  by  them  for  tears,  you  yet  may  smile, 

Nay,  laugh  outright,  as  I  have  done  just  now. 

The  interview  was  gracious :  they  anoint 

(To  me  aside)  each  other  with  fine  praise : 

Discriminating  compliments  they  raise, 

That  hit  with  wondrous  aim  on  the  weak  point : 

My  Lady's  nose  of  Nature  might  complain. 

It  is  not  fashioned  aptly  to  express 

Her  character  of  large-browed  steadfastness. 

But  Madam  says :    Thereof  she  may  be  vain  I 

Now,  Madam's  faulty  feature  is  a  glazed 

And  inaccessible  eye,  that  has  soft  fires, 

Wide  gates,  at  love-time  only.    This  admires 

My  Lady.     At  the  two  I  stand  amazed. 


MODERN  LOVE  ^9 


XXXVII 

Along  the  garden  terrace,  under  which 
A  purple  valley  (lighted  at  its  edge 
By  smoky  torch-flame  on  the  long  cloud-ledge 
Whereunder  dropped  the  chariot),  glimmers  rich, 
A  quiet  company  we  pace,  and  wait 
The  dinner-bell  in  prae-digestive  calm. 
So  sweet  up  violet  banks  the  Southern  balm 
Breathes  round,  we  care  not  if  the  bell  be  late : 
Though  here  and  there  grey  seniors  question  Time 
In  irritable  coughings.     With  slow  foot 
The  low  rosed  moon,  the  face  of  Music  mute, 
Begins  among  her  silent  bars  to  climb. 
As  in  and  out,  in  silvery  dusk,  we  thread, 
I  hear  the  laugh  of  Madam,  and  discern 
My  Lady's  heel  before  me  at  each  turn. 
j  Our  tragedy,  is  it  alive  or  dead  ? 


40  MODERN   LOVE 


XXXVIII 

Give  to  imagination  some  pure  light 
In  human  form  to  fix  it,  or  you  shame 
The  devils  with  that  hideous  human  game :  — 
Imagination  urging  appetite ! 
Thus  fallen  have  earth's  greatest  Gogmagogs, 
Who  dazzle  us,  whom  we  can  not  revere : 
Imagination  is  the  charioteer 
That,  in  default  of  better,  drives  the  hogs. 
j  So,  therefore,  my  dear  Lady,  let  me  love  1  . 
My  soul  is  arrowy  to  the  liglit  in  you. 
You  know  me  that  I  never  can  renew 
The  bond  that  woman  broke  :  what  would  you  have  ? 
'T  is  Love,  or  Vileness  !  not  a  choice  between, 
Save  petrifaction  !     What  does  Pity  here  ? 
She  killed  a  thing,  and  now  it 's  dead,  't  is  dear. 
Oh,  when  you  counsel  me,  think  what  you  mean  I 


MODERN   LOVE  41 


XXXIX 

She  yields  :  my  Lady  in  her  noblest  mood 

Has  yielded  :  she,  my  golden-crowned  rose ! 

The  bride  of  every  sense !  more  sweet  than  those 

Who  breathe  the  violet  breath  of  maidenhood. 

0  visage  of  still  music  in  the  sky ! 

Soft  moon  !     I  feel  thy  song,  my  fairest  friend  I 

True  harmony  within  can  apprehend 

Dumb  harmony  without.     And  hark  !  't  is  nigh ! 

Belief  has  struck  the  note  of  sound  :  a  gleam 

Of  living  silver  shows  me  where  she  shook 

Her  long  white  fingers  down  the  shadowy  brook, 

Tha>t  sings  her  song,  half  waking,  half  in  dream. 

What  two  come  here  to  mar  this  heavenly  tune  ? 

A  man  is  one  :  the  woman  bears  my  name. 

And  honour.     Their  hands  touch  !     Am  I  still  tame  ? 

Ood,  what  a  dancing  spectre  seems  the  moon ! 


42  MODERN   LOVE 


XL 

I  bade  my  Lady  think  what  she  might  mean. 
Know  I  my  meaning,  I  ?     Can  I  love  one, 
And  yet  be  jealous  of  another  ?     None 
Commits  such  folly.     Terrible  Love,  I  ween, 
Has  might,  even  dead,  half  sighing  to  upheave 
The  lightless  seas  of  selfishness  amain : 
Seas  that  in  a  man's  heart  have  no  rain 
To  fall  and  still  them.     Peace  can  I  achieve. 
By  turning  to  this  fountain-source  of  woe, 
This  woman,  who  's  to  Love  as  fire  to  wood  ? 
She  breathed  the  violet  breath  of  maidenhood 
Against  my  kisses  once  !  but  I  say.  No  ! 
The  thing  is  mocked  at !     Helplessly  afloat, 
I  know  not  what  I  do,  whereto  I  strive. 
The  dread  that  my  old  love  may  be  alive, 
Has  seized  my  nursling  new  love  by  the  throat. 


MODERN  LOVE  43 


ZLI 


How  many  a  thing  which  we  cast  to  the  ground, 
When  others  pick  it  up  becomes  a  gem ! 
We  grasp  at  all  the  wealth  it  is  to  them ; 
And  by  reflected  light  its  worth  is  found. 
Yet  for  us  still  't  is  nothing  !  and  that  zeal 
Of  false  appreciation  quickly  fades. 
This  truth  is  little  known  to  human  shades, 
How  rare  from  their  own  instinct 't  is  to  feel  I 
They  waste  the  soul  with  spurious  desire, 
That  is  not  the  ripe  flame  upon  the  bough. 
We  two  have  taken  up  a  lifeless  vow 
To  rob  a  living  passion  :  dust  for  fire  ! 
Madam  is  grave,  and  eyes  the  clock  that  tells 
Approaching  midnight.    We  have  struck  despair 
Into  two  hearts,     0,  look  we  like  a  pair 
Who  for  fresh  nuptials  joyfully  yield  all  else  ? 


44  MODERN  LOVE 


XLII 

I  am  to  follow  her.     There  is  much  grace 
In  woman  when  thus  bent  on  martyrdom. 
They  think  that  dignity  of  soul  may  come, 
Perchance,  with  dignity  of  body.     Base! 
But  I  was  taken  by  that  air  of  cold 
And  statuesque  sedateness,  when  she  said 

*  I  'm  going ' ;  lit  a  taper,  bowed  her  head, 
And  went,  as  with  the  stride  of  Pallas  bold. 
Fleshly  indifference  horrible!     The  hands 
Of  Time  now  signal :  0,  she  's  safe  from  me ! 
Within  those  secret  walls  what  do  I  see  ? 
Where  first  she  set  the  taper  down  she  stands  : 

Not  Pallas  :  Hebe  shamed !     Thoughts  black  as  death, 
Like  a  stirred  pool  in  sunshine  break.     Her  wrists 
I  catch :  she  faltering,  as  she  half  resists, 

*  You  love  .  . .  ?  love  .  . .  ?  love  .  .  .  ?  '  all  on  an  indrawn 

breath. 


MODERN  LOVE  45 


XLIII 

Mark  where  the  pressing  wind  shoots  javelin-like, 
Its  skeleton  shadow  on  the  broad-backed  wave ! 
\Here  is  a  fitting  spot  to  dig  Love's  grave ; 
Here  where  the  ponderous  breakers  plunge  and  strike, 
And  dart  their  hissing  tongues  high  up  the  sand : 
In  hearing  of  the  ocean,  and  in  sight 
Of  those  ribbed  wind-streaks  running  into  white. 
If  I  the  death  of  Love  had  deeply  planned, 
I  never  could  have  made  it  half  so  sure, 
As  by  the  unblest  kisses  which  upbraid 
The  full-waked  sense ;  or  failing  that,  degrade ! 
'T  is  morning  :  but  no  morning  can  restore 
I  What  we  have  forfeited.     I  see  no  sin : 
1  The  wrong  is  mixed.     In  tragic  life,  God  wot, 
iNo  villain  need  be  !     Passions  spin  the  plot: 
\We  are  bet'-ay-^d  by  what  is  false  within- 


46  MODERN  LOVE 


XLIV 

They  say,  that  Pity  in  Love's  service  dwells, 
A  porter  at  the  rosy  temple's  gate. 
I  missed  him  going  :  but  it  is  my  fate 
To  come  upon  him  now  beside  his  wells ; 
Whereby  I  know  that  I  Love's  temple  leave, 
And  that  the  purple  doors  have  closed  behind. 
Poor  soul !  if  in  those  early  days  unkind. 
Thy  power  to  sting  had  been  but  power  to  grieve, 
We  now  might  with  an  equal  spirit  meet. 
And  not  be  matched  like  innocence  and  vice. 
She  for  the  Temple's  worship  has  paid  price, 
And  takes  the  coin  of  Pity  as  a  cheat. 
She  sees  through  simulation  to  the  bone : 
What's  best  in  her  impels  her  to  the  worst : 
Never,  she  cries,  shall  Pity  soothe  Love's  thirst, 
Or  foul  hypocrisy  for  truth  atone  I 


MODERN  LOVB  47 


XLV 

It  is  the  season  of  the  sweet  wild  rose, 

My  Lady's  emblem  in  the  heart  of  me  ! 

So  golden-crowned  shines  she  gloriously, 

And  with  that  softest  dream  of  blood  she  glows : 

Mild  as  an  evening  heaven  round  Hesper  bright ! 

I  pluck  the  flower,  and  smell  it,  and  revive 

The  time  when  in  her  eyes  I  stood  alive. 

I  seem  to  look  upon  it  out  of  Night. 

Here  's  Madam,  stepping  hastily.     Her  whims 

Bid  her  demand  the  flower,  which  I  let  drop. 

As  I  proceed,  I  feel  her  sharply  stop. 

And  crush  it  under  heel  with  trembling  limbs. 

She  joins  me  in  a  cat-like  way,  and  talks 

Of  company,  and  even  condescends 

To  utter  laughing  scandal  of  old  friends. 

These  are  the  summer  days,  and  these  our  walks. 


48  MODERN  LOVE 


XLVI 

At  last  we  parley :  we  so  strangely  dumb 
In  such  a  close  communion  !     It  befell 
About  the  sounding  of  the  Matin-bell, 
And  lo  !  her  place  was  vacant,  and  the  hum 
Of  loneliness  was  round  me.     Then  I  rose, 
And  my  disordered  brain  did  guide  my  foot 
To  that  old  wood  where  our  first  love-salute 
Was  interchanged :  the  source  of  many  throes  ! 
There  did  I  see  her,  not  alone.     I  moved 
Toward  her,  and  made  proffer  of  my  arm. 
She  took  it  simply,  with  no  rude  alarm  ; 
And  that  disturbing  shadow  passed  reproved. 
I  felt  the  pained  speech  coming,  and  declared 
My  firm  belief  in  her,  ere  she  could  speak. 
A  ghastly  morning  came  into  her  cheek, 
Thile  with  a  widening  soul  ou  me  she  stared. 


MODERN  LOVE  49 


XLVII 


We  saw  the  swallows  gathering  in  the  sky, 

And  in  the  osier-isle  we  heard  them  noise. 

We  had  not  to  look  back  on  summer  joys, 

Or  forward  to  a  summer  of  bright  dye : 

But  in  the  largeness  of  the  evening  earth 

Our  spirits  grew  as  we  went  side  by  side. 

The  hour  became  her  husband  and  my  bride. 

Love  that  had  robbed  us  so,  thus  blessed  our  dearth  I 

The  pilgrims  of  the  year  waxed  very  loud 

In  multitudinous  chatterings,  as  the  flood 

Full  brown  came  from  the  West,  and  like  pale  blood 

Expanded  to  the  upper  crimson  cloud. 

Love  that  had  robbed  us  of  immortal  things, 

This  little  moment  mercifully  gave, 

Where  I  have  seen  across  the  twilight  wave 

The  swan  sail  with  her  young  beneath  her  wings. 


50  MODEBN  LOVE 


XLVIII 

Their  sense  is  with  their  senses  all  mixed  in, 
Destroyed  by  subtleties  these  women  are  ! 
V      I  More  brain,  0  Lord,  more  brain  !  or  we  shall  mar 
Utterly  this  fair  garden  we  might  win. 
Behold !  I  looked  for  peace,  and  thought  it  near. 
Our  inmost  hearts  had  opened,  each  to  each. 
We  drank  the  pure  daylight  of  honest  speech. 
Alas  !  that  was  the  fatal  draught,  I  fear. 
For  when  of  my  lost  Lady  came  the  word, 
This  woman,  0  this  agony  of  flesh ! 
Jealous  devotion  bade  her  break  the  mesh, 
That  I  might  seek  that  other  like  a  bird. 
I  do  adore  the  nobleness  !  despise 
The  act !     She  has  gone  forth,  I  know  not  where. 
,Will  the  hard  world  my  sentience  of  her  share? 
I  feel  the  truth ;  so  let  the  world  surmise. 


MODERN  LOVE  61 


XLIX 

I  He  found  her  by  the  ocean's  moaning  verge, 
Nor  any  wicked  change  in  her  discerned ; 
And  she  believed  his  oki  love  had  returned, 
Which  was  her  exultation,  and  her  scourge. 
She  took  his  hand,  and  walked  with  him,  and  seemed 
The  wife  he  sought,  though  shadow-like  and  dry. 
I  She  had  one  terror,  lest  her  heart  should  sigh, 
I  And  tell  her  loudly  she  no  longer  dreamed. 
She  dared  not  say,  'This  is  my  breast :  look  in.' 
But  there  's  a  strength  to  help  the  desperate  weak. 
That  night  he  learned  how  silence  best  can  speak 
The  awful  things  when  Pity  pleads  for  Sin. 
About  the  middle  of  the  night  her  call 
Was  heard,  and  he  came  wondering  to  the  bed. 
*Now  kiss  me,  dear !  it  may  be,  now  ! '  she  said. 
Lethe  had  passed  those  lips,  and  he  knew  all. 


62  MODEKN  LOVE 


Thus  piteously  Love  closed  what  he  begat: 
The  union  of  this  ever-diverse  pair ! 
These  two  were  rapid  falcons  in  a  snare, 
Condemned  to  do  the  flitting  of  the  bat. 
Lovers  beneath  the  singing  sky  of  May, 
They  wandered  once ;  clear  as  the  dew  on  flowers : 
But  they  fed  not  on  the  advancing  hours : 
jTheir  hearts  held  cravings  for  the  buried  day. 
Then  each  applied  to  each  that  fatal  knife, 
Deep  questioning,  which  probes  to  endless  dole. 
Ah,  what  a  dusty  answer  gets  the  soul 
When  hot  for  certainties  in  this  our  life !  — 
In  tragic  hints  here  see  wliat  evermore 
Moves  dark  as  yonder  midnight  ocean's  force, 
Thundering  like  ramping  hosts  of  warrior  horse, 
To  throw  that  faint  thin  line  upon  the  shore  ! 


THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE 
HONEST  LADY 


One  fairest  of  the  ripe  uuwedded  left 

Her  shadow  on  the  Sage's  path ;  he  found, 

By  common  signs,  that  she  had  done  a  theft. 

He  could  have  made  the  sovereign  heights  resound 

With  questions  of  the  wlierefore  of  her  state : 

He  on  far  other  but  an  hour  before 

Intent.     And  was  it  man,  or  was  it  mate, 

That  she  disdained  ?  or  was  there  haply  more  ? 

About  her  mouth  a  placid  humour  slipped 

The  dimple,  as  you  see  smooth  lakes  at  eve 

Spread  melting  rings  where  late  a  swallow  dipped. 

The  surface  was  attentive  to  receive, 

The  secret  underneath  enfolded  fast. 

She  had  the  step  of  the  unconquered,  brave, 

Not  arrogant ;  and  if  the  vessel's  mast 

Waved  liberty,  no  challenge  did  it  wave. 

Her  eyes  were  the  sweet  world  desired  of  souls, 

With  something  of  a  wavering  line  unspelt. 

They  held  the  look  whose  tenderness  condoles 

For  what  the  sister  in  the  look  has  dealt 


X 
\ 


54   THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY 

Of  fatal  beyond  healing ;  and  her  tones 

A  woman's  honeyed  amorous  outvied, 

As  when  in  a  dropped  viol  the  wood-throb  moans 

Among  the  sobbing  strings,  that  plain  and  chide 

Like  infants  for  themselves,  less  deep  to  thrill 

Than  those  rich  mother-notes  for  them  breathed  round. 

Those  voices  are  not  magic  of  the  will 

To  strike  love's  wound,  but  of  love's  wound  give  sound, 

Conveying  it ;  the  yearnings,  pains  and  dreams. 

They  waft  to  the  moist  tropics  after  storm, 

When  out  of  passion  spent  thick  incense  steams, 

And  jewel-belted  clouds  the  wreck  transform. 

Was  never  hand  on  brush  or  lyre  to  paint 

Her  gracious  manners,  where  the  nuptial  ring 

Of  melody  clasped  motion  in  restraint : 

The  reed-blade  with  the  breeze  thereof  may  sing. 

With  such  endowments  armed  was  she  and  decked 

To  make  her  spoken  thoughts  eclipse  her  kind  j 

Surpassing  many  a  giant  intellect. 

The  marvel  of  that  cradled  infant  mind. 

It  clenched  the  tiny  fist,  it  curled  the  toe ; 

Cherubic  laughed,  enticed,  dispensed,  absorbed ; 

And  promised  in  fair  feminine  to  grow 

A  Sage's  match  and  mate,  more  heavenly  orbed. 


zi 

Actoss  his  path  the  spouseless  Lady  cast 
Her  shadow,  and  the  man  that  thing  became. 
His  youth  uprising  called  his  age  the  Past. 
This  was  the  strong  grey  head  of  laurelled  name, 


THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY   55 

And  in  his  bosom  an  inverted  Sage 

Mistook  for  light  of  morn  the  light  which  sank. 

But  who  while  veins  run  blood  shall  know  the  page 

Succeeding  ere  we  turn  upon  our  blank  ? 

Comes  Beauty  with  her  tale  of  moon  and  cloud, 

Her  silvered  rims  of  mystery  pointing  in 

To  hollows  of  the  half-veiled  unavowed, 

Where  beats  her  secret  life,  grey  heads  will  spin 

Quick  as  the  young,  and  spell  those  hieroglyphs 

Of  phosphorescent  dusk  devoutly  bent ; 

They  drink  a  cup  to  whirl  on  dizzier  cliffs 

For  their  shamed  fall,  which  asks,  why  was  she  sent ! 

Why,  and  of  whom,  and  whence  ;  and  tell  they  truth, 

The  legends  of  her  mission  to  beguile  ? 

Hard  likeness  to  the  toilful  apes  of  youth, 
He  bore  at  times,  and  tempted  the  sly  smile  j 
And  not  on  her  soft  lips  was  it  descried. 
She  stepped  her  way  benevolently  grave : 
Nor  sign  that  Beauty  fed  her  worm  of  pride. 
By  tossing  victim  to  the  courtier  knave, 
Let  peep,  nor  of  the  naughty  pride  gave  sign. 
Eather  't  was  humbleness  in  being  pursued, 
As  pilgrim  to  the  temple  of  a  shrine. 
Had  he  not  wits  to  pierce  the  mask  he  wooed  ? 
All  wisdom's  armoury  this  man  could  wield ; 
And  if  the  cynic  in  the  Sage  it  pleased, 
Traverse  her  woman's  curtain  and  poor  shield, 
For  new  example  of  a  world  diseased ; 
Showing  her  shrineless,  not  a  temple,  bare ; 
A  curtain  ripped  to  tatters  by  the  blast. 


56      THE   SAGE  ENAJMOUEED   AND  THE   HONEST  LADY 

Yet  she  most  surely  to  this  man  stood  fair : 

He  worshipped  like  the  youug  enthusiast, 

Named  simpleton  or  poet.    Did  he  read 

Right  through,  and  with  the  voice  she  held  reserved 

Amid  her  vacant  ruins  jointly  plead  ? 

Compassion  for  the  man  thus  noble  nerved 

The  pity  for  herself  she  felt  in  him, 

To  wreak  a  deed  of  sacrifice,  and  save ; 

At  least,  be  worthy.     That  our  soul  may  swim, 

We  sink  our  heart  down  bubbling  under  wave. 

It  bubbles  till  it  drops  among  the  wrecks. 

But,  ah  !  confession  of  a  woman's  breast; 

She  eminent,  she  honoured  of  her  sex ! 

Truth  speaks,  and  takes  the  spots  of  the  confessed, 

To  veil  them.     None  of  women,  save  their  vile, 

Plays  traitor  to  an  army  in  the  field. 

The  cries  most  vindicating  most  defile. 

How  shall  a  cause  to  Nature  be  appealed. 

When,  under  pressure  of  their  common  foe. 

Her  sisters  shun  the  Mother  and  disown, 

On  pain  of  his  intolerable  crow 

Above  the  fiction,  biiilt  for  him,  o'erthrown  ? 

Irrational  he  is,  irrational 

Must  they  be,  though  not  Reason's  light  shall  wane 

In  them  with  ever  Nature  at  close  call, 

Behind  the  fiction  torturing  to  sustain  ; 

Who  hear  her  in  the  milk,  and  sometimes  make 

A  tongueless  answer,  shivered  on  a  sigh  : 

Whereat  men  dread  their  lofty  structure's  quake 

Once  more,  and  in  their  hosts  for  tocsin  ply 


THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY   57 

The  crazy  roar  of  peril,  leonine 

For  injured  majesty.     That  sigh  of  dames 

Is  rare  and  soon  suppressed.     Not  they  combine 

To  shake  the  structure  sheltering  them,  which  tames 

Their  lustier  if  not  wilder :  fixed  are  they, 

In  elegancy  scarce  denoting  ease  ; 

And  do  they  breathe,  it  is  not  to  betray 

The  martyr  in  the  caryatides. 

Yet  here  and  there  along  the  graceful  row 

Is  one  who  fetches  breath  from  deeps,  who  deems, 

Moved  by  a  desperate  craving,  their  old  foe 

May  yield  a  trustier  friend  than  woman  seems, 

And  aid  to  bear  the  sculptured  floral  weight 

Massed  upon  heads  not  utterly  of  stone  : 

May  stamp  endurance  by  expounding  fate. 

She  turned  to  him,  and,  This  you  seek  is  gone ; 

Look  in,  she  said,  as  pants  the  furnace,  brief, 

Frost-white.     She  gave  his  hearing  sight  to  view 

The  silent  chamber  of  a  brown  curled  leaf: 

Thing  that  had  throbbed  ere  shot  black  lightning  through. 

No  further  sign  of  heart  could  he  discern : 

The  picture  of  her  speech  was  winter  sky ; 

A  headless  figure  folding  a  cleft  urn, 

Where  tears  once  at  the  overflow  were  dry. 


m 

So  spake  she  her  first  utterance  on  the  rack. 
It  softened  torment,  in  the  funeral  hues 
Eound  wan  Romance  at  ebb,  but  drove  her  back 
To  listen  to  herself,  herself  accuse 


58   THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY 

Harshly  as  Love's  imperial  cause  allowed. 
She  meant  to  grovel,  and  her  lover  praised 
So  high  o'er  the  condemnatory  crowd, 
That  she  perforce  a  fellow  phoenix  blazed. 

The  picture  was  of  hand  fast  joined  to  hand, 

Both  pushed  from  angry  skies,  their  grasp  more  pledged 

Under  the  threatened  flash  of  a  bright  brand 

At  arm's  length  up,  for  severing  action  edged. 

Why,  then  Love's  Court  of  Honour  contemplate ; 

And  two  drowned  shorecasts,  who,  for  the  life  esteemed 

Above  their  lost,  invoke  an  advocate 

In  passion's  purity,  thereby  redeemed. 

Redeemed,  uplifted,  glimmering  on  a  throne, 
The  woman  stricken  by  an  arrow  falls. 
His  advocate  she  can  be,  not  her  own. 
If,  Traitress  to  thy  sex !  one  sister  calls. 

Have  we  such  scenes  of  drapery's  mournfulness 
On  Beauty's  revelations,  witched  we  plant, 
Over  the  fair  shape  humbled  to  confess, 
An  angel's  buckler,  with  loud  choric  chant. 


IV 

No  knightly  sword  to  serve,  nor  harp  of  bard, 

The  lady's  hand  in  her  physician's  knew. 

She  had  not  hoped  for  them  as  her  award, 

When  zig-zag  on  the  tongue  electric  flew 

Her  charge  of  counter-motives,  none  impure : 

But  muteness  whipped  her  skin.     She  could  have  said, 


THE   SAGE  ENAMOURED  AJSTD  THE  HONEST  LADY      59 

Her  free  confession  was  to  work  his  cure, 
Show  proofs  for  why  she  could  not  love  or  wed. 
Were  they  not  shown  ?    His  muteness  shook  in  thrall 
Her  body  on  the  verge  of  that  black  pit 
Sheer  from  the  treacherous  confessional, 
Demanding  further,  while  perusing  it. 

Slave  is  the  open  mouth  beneath  the  closed. 

She  sank ;  she  snatched  at  colours ;  they  were  peel 

Of  fruit  past  savour,  in  derision  rosed. 

For  the  dark  downward  then  her  soul  did  reel. 

A  press  of  hideous  impulse  urged  to  speak : 

A  novel  dread  of  man  enchained  her  dumb. 

She  felt  the  silence  thicken,  heard  it  shriek, 

Heard  Life  subsiding  on  the  eternal  hum : 

Welcome  to  women,  when,  between  man's  laws 

And  Nature's  thirsts,  they,  soul  from  body  torn, 

Give  suck  at  breast  to  a  celestial  cause, 

Kamed  by  the  mouth  infernal,  and  forsworn. 

Nathless  her  forehead  twitched  a  sad  content, 
To  think  the  cure  so  manifest,  so  frail 
Her  charm  remaining.     Was  the  curtain's  rent 
Too  wide  ?  he  but  a  man  of  that  herd  male  ? 
She  saw  him  as  that  herd  of  the  forked  head 
Butting  the  woman  harrowed  on  her  knees, 
Clothed  only  in  life's  last  devouring  red. 
Confession  at  her  fearful  instant  sees 
Judicial  Silence  write  the  devil  fact 
In  letters  of  the  skeleton  :  at  once. 
Swayed  on  the  supplication  of  her  act, 
The  rabble  reading,  roaring  to  denounce, 


60      THE   SAGE  ENAIVIOURED   AND   THE  HONEST   LADY 

She  joins.     No  longer  colouring,  with  skips 
At  tangles,  picture  that  for  eyes  in  tears 
Might  swim  the  sequence,  she  addressed  her  lips 
To  do  the  scaffold's  office  at  his  ears. 

Into  the  bitter  judgement  of  that  herd 
On  women,  she,  deeming  it  present,  fell. 
Her  frenzy  of  abasement  hugged  the  word 
They  stone  with,  and  so  pile  their  citadel 
To  launch  at  outcasts  the  foul  levin  bolt. 
A.S  had  he  flung  it,  in  her  breast  it  burned. 
Face  and  reflect  it  did  her  hot  revolt 
From  hardness,  to  the  writhing  rebel  turned ; 
Because  the  golden  buckler  was  withheld, 
She  to  herself  applies  the  powder-spark. 
For  joy  of  one  wild  demon  burst  ere  quelled, 
Perishing  to  astound  the  tyrant  Dark. 

She  had  the  Scriptural  word  so  scored  on  brain, 
It  rang  through  air  to  sky,  and  rocked  a  world 
That  danced  down  shades  the  scarlet  dance  profane ; 
Most  women  !  see  !  by  the  man's  view  dustward  hurled, 
Impenitent,  submissive,  torn  in  two. 
They  sink  upon  their  nature,  the  unnamed, 
And  sops  of  nourishment  may  get  some  few. 
In  place  of  understanding  scourged  and  shamed. 

Barely  have  seasoned  women  understood 
The  great  Irrational,  who  thunders  power. 
Drives  Nature  to  her  primitive  wild  wood, 
And  courts  her  in  the  covert's  dewy  hour ; 


THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY   61 

Returning  to  his  fortress  nigh  night's  end, 
With  execration  of  her  daughters'  lures. 
They  help  him  the  proud  fortress  to  defend, 
Nor  see  what  front  it  wears,  what  life  immures, 
The  murder  it  commits  ;  nor  that  its  base 
Is  shifty  as  a  huckster's  opening  deal 
For  bargain  under  smoothest  market  face, 
While  Gentleness  bids  frigid  Justice  feel, 
Justice  protests  that  Reason  is  her  seat ; 
Elect  Convenience,  as  Reason  masked, 
Hears  calmly  cramped  Humanity  entreat ; 
Until  a  sentient  world  is  overtasked. 
And  rouses  Reason's  fountain-self :  she  calls 
On  Nature ;  Nature  answers  :  Share  your  guilt 
In  common  when  contention  cracks  the  walls 
Of  the  big  house  which  not  on  me  is  built. 

The  Lady  said  as  much  as  breath  will  bear  j 
To  happier  sisters  inconceivable : 
Contemptible  to  veterans  of  the  fair, 
Who  show  for  a  convolving  pearly  shell, 
A  treasure  of  the  shore,  their  written  book. 
As  much  as  woman's  breath  will  bear  and  live, 
Shaped  she  to  words  beneath  a  knotted  look. 
That  held  as  if  for  grain  the  summing  sieve. 

Her  judge  now  brightened  without  pause,  as  wakes 

Our  homely  daylight  after  dread  of  spells. 

Lips  sugared  to  let  loose  the  little  snakes 

Of  slimy  lustres  ringing  elfin  bells 

About  a  story  of  the  naked  flesh, 

Intending  but  to  put  some  garment  on. 


62   THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY 

Should  learn,  that  in  the  subject  they  enmesh, 
A  traitor  lurks  and  will  be  known  anon. 
Delusion  heating  pricks  the  torpid  doubt, 
Stationed  for  index  down  an  ancient  track: 
And  ware  of  it  was  he  while  she  poured  out, 
A  broken  moon  on  forest-waters  black. 

Though  past  the  stage  where  midway  men  are  skilled 
To  scan  their  senses  wriggling  under  plough, 
When  yet  to  the  charmed  seed  of  speech  distilled, 
Their  hearts  are  fallow,  he,  and  witless  how. 
Loathing,  had  yielded,  like  bruised  limb  to  leech. 
Not  handsomely  ;  but  now  beholding  bleed 
Soul  of  the  woman  in  her  prostrate  speech, 
The  valour  of  that  rawness  he  could  read. 
Thence  flashed  it,  as  the  crimson  currents  ran 
From  senses  up  to  thoughts,  how  she  had  read 
Maternally  the  warm  remainder  man 
Beneath  his  crust,  and  Nature's  pity  shed, 
In  shedding  dearer  than  heart's  blood  to  light 
His  vision  of  the  path  mild  Wisdom  walks. 
Therewith  he  could  espy  Confession's  fright ; 
Her  need  of  him :  these  flowers  grow  on  stalks ; 
They  suck  from  soil,  and  have  their  urgencies 
Beside  and  with  the  lovely  face  mid  leaves. 
Veins  of  divergencies,  convergencies, 
Our  botanist  in  womankind  perceives ; 
And  if  he  hugs  no  wound,  the  man  can  prize 
That  splendid  consummation  and  sure  proof 
Of  more  than  heart  in  her,  who  might  despise, 
Who  drowns  herself,  for  pity  up  aloof 


THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY   63 

To  soar  aud  be  like  Nature's  pity :  she 

Instinctive  of  what  virtue  in  young  days 

Had  served  him  for  his  pilot-star  on  sea, 

To  trouble  him  in  haven.     Thus  his  gaze 

Came  out  of  rust,  and  more  than  the  schooled  tongue 

Was  gifted  to  encourage  and  assure. 

He  gave  her  of  the  deep  well  she  had  sprung ; 

And  name  it  gratitude,  the  word  is  poor. 

But  name  it  gratitude,  is  aught  as  rare 

From  sex  to  sex  ?     And  let  it  have  survived 

Their  conflict,  comes  the  peace  between  the  pair, 

Unknown  to  thousands  husbanded  and  wived: 

Unknown  to  Passion,  generous  for  prey : 

Unknown  to  Love,  too  blissful  in  a  truce. 

Their  tenderest  of  self  did  each  one  slay ; 

His  cloak  of  dignity,  her  fleur  de  luce ; 

Her  lily  flower,  and  his  abolla  cloak. 

Things  living,  slew  they,  and  no  artery  bled. 

A  moment  of  some  sacrificial  smoke. 

They  passed,  and  were  the  dearer  for  their  dead. 

He  learnt  how  much  we  gain  who  make  no  claims. 

A  nightcap  on  his  flicker  of  grey  fire, 

Was  thought  of  her  sharp  shudder  in  the  flames. 

Confessing;  and  its  conjured  image  dire, 

Of  love,  the  torrent  on  the  valley  dashed ; 

The  whirlwind  swathing  tremulous  peaks  ;  young  force, 

Visioned  to  hold  corrected  and  abashed 

Our  senile  emulous;  which  rolls  its  course 

Proud  to  the  shattering  end  ;  with  these  few  last 

Hot  quintessential  drops  of  bryony  juice, 


04   THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY 

Squeezed  out  in  anguish  :  all  of  that  once  vast! 
And  still,  though  having  skin  for  man's  abuse, 
Though  no  more  glorying  in  the  beauteous  wreath 
Shot  skyward  from  a  blood  at  passionate  jet, 
Repenting  but  in  words,  that  stand  as  teeth 
Between  the  vivid  lips ;  a  vassal  set ; 
And  numb,  of  formal  value.     Are  we  true 
In  nature,  never  natural  thing  repents; 
Albeit  receiving  punishment  for  due, 
Among  the  group  of  this  world's  penitents ; 
Albeit  remorsefully  regretting,  oft 
Cravenly,  while  the  scourge  no  shudder  spares. 

Our  world  believes  it  stabler  if  the  soft 
Are  whipped  to  show  the  face  repentance  wears. 
Then  hear  it,  in  a  moan  of  atheist  gloom, 
Deplore  the  weedy  growth  of  hypocrites ; 
Count  Nature  devilish,  and  accept  for  doom 
The  chasm  between  our  passions  and  our  wits  I 

Affecting  lunar  whiteness,  patent  snows, 
It  trembles  at  betrayal  of  a  sore. 
Hers  is  the  glacier-conscience,  to  expose 
Impurities  for  clearness  at  the  core. 

She  to  her  hungered  thundering  in  breast, 
Ye  shall  not  starve,  not  feebly  designates 
The  world  repressing  as  a  life  repressed, 
Judged  by  the  wasted  martyrs  it  creates. 
How  Sin,  amid  the  shades  Cimmerian, 
Repents,  she  points  for  sight :  and  she  avers, 
The  hoofed  half-angel  in  the  Puritan 
Nigh  reads  her  when  no  brutish  wrath  deters. 


THE   SAGE  EIsrAMOUREt)  AND   THE   HONEST   LADY      65 

Sin  against  immaturity,  the  sin 
Of  ravenous  excess,  what  deed  divides 
Man  from  vitality  ;  these  bleed  within ; 
Bleed  in  the  crippled  relic  that  abides. 
Perpetually  they  bleed ;  a  limb  is  lost, 
A.  piece  of  life,  the  very  spirit  maimed. 
But  culprit  who  the  law  of  man  has  crossed 
With  Nature's,  dubiously  within  is  blamed ; 
Despite  our  cry  at  cutting  of  the  whip, 
Our  shiver  in  the  night  when  numbers  frown  > 
We  but  bewail  a  broken  fellowship, 
A  sting,  an  isolation,  a  fall'n  crown. 

Abject  of  sinners  is  that  sensitive, 

The  flesh,  amenable  to  stripes,  miscalled 

Incorrigible  :  such  title  do  we  give 

To  the  poor  shrinking  stuff  wherewith  we  are  walled; 

And  taking  it  for  Nature,  place  in  ban 

Our  Mother,  as  a  Power  wanton-willed. 

The  shame  and  baffler  of  the  soul  of  man, 

The  recreant,  reptilious.     Do  thou  build 

Thy  mind  on  her  foundations  in  earth's  bed ; 

Behold  man's  mind  the  child  of  her  keen  rod. 

For  teaching  how  the  wits  and  passions  wed 

To  rear  that  temple  of  the  credible  God ; 

Sacred  the  letters  of  her  laws,  and  plain. 

Will  shine,  to  guide  thy  feet  and  hold  thee  firm : 

Then,  as  a  pathway  through  a  field  of  grain, 

Man's  laws  appear  the  blind  progressive  worm, 

That  moves  by  touch,  and  thrust  of  linking  rings : 

The  which  to  endow  with  vision,  lift  from  mud 


66   THE  SAGE  ENAMOUKED  AND  THE  HONEST  LADY 

To  level  of  their  nature's  aims  and  springs, 
Must  those,  the  twain  beside  our  vital  flood, 
Now  on  opposing  banks,  the  twain  at  strife 
(Whom  the  so  rosy  ferryman  invites 
To  junction,  and  mid-channel  over  Life, 
Unmasked  to  the  ghostly,  much  asunder  smites), 
Instruct  in  deeper  than  Convenience, 
In  higher  than  the  harvest  of  a  year. 
Only  the  rooted  knowledge  to  high  sense 
Of  heavenly  can  mount,  and  feel  the  spur 
For  fruitfullest  advancement,  eye  a  mark 
Beyond  the  path  with  grain  on  either  hand, 
Help  to  the  steering  of  our  social  Ark 
Over  the  barbarous  waters  unto  land. 

For  us  the  double  conscience  and  its  war, 
The  serving  of  two  masters,  false  to  both, 
Until  those  twain,  who  spring  the  root  and  are 
The  knowledge  in  division,  plight  a  troth 
Of  equal  hands :  nor  longer  circulate 
A  pious  token  for  their  current  coin, 
To  growl  at  the  exchange ;  they,  mate  and  mate. 
Fair  feminine  and  masculine  shall  join 
Upon  an  upper  plane,  still  common  mould. 
Where  stamped  religion  and  reflective  pace 
A  statelier  measure,  and  the  hoop  of  gold 
Rounds  to  horizon  for  their  soul's  embrace. 
Then  shall  those  noblest  of  the  earth  and  sun 
Inmix  unlike  to  waves  on  savage  sea. 
But  not  till  Nature's  laws  and  man's  are  one, 
Can  marriage  of  the  man  and  woman  be. 


THE  SAGE  ENAMOURED  AKD   THE  HONEST  LADY   67 


He  passed  her  through  the  sermon's  dull  defile. 

Down  under  billowy  vapour-gorges  heaved 

The  city  and  the  vale  and  mountain-pile. 

She  felt  strange  push  of  shuttle-threads  that  weaved. 

A  new  land  in  an  old  beneath  her  lay ; 

And  forth  to  meet  it  did  her  spirit  rush, 

As  bride  who  without  shame  has  come  to  say, 

Husband,  in  his  dear  face  that  caused  her  blush. 

A  natural  woman's  heart,  not  more  than  clad 
By  station  and  bright  raiment,  gathers  heat 
From  nakedness  in  trusted  hands  :  she  had 
The  joy  of  those  who  feel  the  world's  heart  beat, 
After  long  doubt  of  it  as  fire  or  ice  ; 
Because  one  man  had  helped  her  to  breathe  free  j 
Surprised  to  faith  in  something  of  a  price 
Past  the  old  charity  in  chivalry  :  — 
Our  first  wild  step  to  right  the  loaded  scales 
Displaying  women  shamefully  outweighed. 
The  wisdom  of  humaneness  best  avails 
For  serving  justice  till  that  fraud  is  brayed. 

Her  buried  body  fed  the  life  she  drank. 
And  not  another  stripping  of  her  wound ! 
The  startled  thought  on  black  delirium  sank, 
While  with  her  gentle  surgeon  she  communed, 


68      THE  SAGE  ENAMOUKED  AND  THE  HONEST  LuADY 

And  woman's  prospect  of  the  yoke  repelled. 

Her  buried  body  gave  her  flowers  and  food ; 

The  peace,  the  homely  skies,  the  springs  that  welled; 

Love,  the  large  love  that  folds  the  multitude. 

Soul's  chastity  in  honesty,  and  this 
With  beauty,  made  the  dower  to  men  refused. 
And  little  do  they  know  the  prize  they  miss ; 
Which  is  their  happy  fortune !     Thus  he  mused. 

For  him,  the  cynic  in  the  Sage  had  play 

A  hazy  moment,  by  a  breath  dispersed ; 

To  think,  of  all  alive  most  wedded  they. 

Whom  time  disjoined !     He  needed  her  quick  thirst 

For  renovated  earth :  on  earth  she  gazed. 

With  humble  aim  to  foot  beside  the  wise. 

Lo,  where  the  eyelashes  of  night  are  raised 

Yet  lowly  over  morning's  pure  grey  eyes. 


LOVE  IS  WINGED 

Love  is  winged  for  two, 
In  the  worst  he  weathers, 
When  their  hearts  are  tied ; 
But  if  they  divide, 
0  too  true  ! 
Cracks  a  globe,  and  feathers,  feathers, 
Feathers  all  the  ground  bestrew. 

I  was  breast  of  morning  sea, 
Rosy  plume  on  forest  dun, 
I  the  laugh  in  rainy  fleeces, 

While  with  me 

She  made  one. 
Now  must  we  pick  up  our  pieces, 
For  that  then  so  winged  were  we. 


ASK,  IS  LOVE  DIVINE 

Ask,  is  Love  divine. 
Voices  all  are,  ay. 
Question  for  the  sign, 
There  's  a  common  sigh. 
Would  we  through  our  years, 
Love  forego, 
Quit  of  scars  and  tears  ? 
Ah,  but  no,  no,  no! 


JOY  IS  FLEET 

Joy  is  fleet, 
Sorrow  slow. 
Love  so  sweet, 
Sorrow  will  sow. 
Love,  that  has  flown 
Ere  day's  decline. 
Love  to  have  known, 
Sorrow,  be  mine! 


THE  LESSON  OF  GRIEF 

Not  ere  the  bitter  herb  we  taste, 
Which  ages  thouglit  of  happy  times, 
To  plant  us  in  a  weeping  waste, 
Rings  with  our  fellows  this  one  heart 
Accordant  chimes. 

When  I  had  shed  ray  glad  year's  leaf, 
I  did  believe  I  stood  alone, 
Till  that  great  company  of  Grief 
Taught  me  to  know  this  craring  heart 
For  not  my  own. 


THE  WOODS  OF  WESTERMAIN 


Enter  these  enchanted  woods, 

You  who  dare. 
Nothing  harms  beneath  the  leaves 
More  than  waves  a  swimmer  cleaves. 
Toss  your  heart  up  with  the  lark, 
Foot  at  peace  with  mouse  and  worm, 

Fair  you  fare. 
Only  at  a  dread  of  dark 
Quaver,  and  they  quit  their  form : 
Thousand  eyeballs  under  hoods 

Have  you  by  the  hair. 
Enter  these  enchanted  woods, 

You  who  dare. 


II 

Here  the  snake  across  your  path 

Stretches  in  his  golden  bath : 

Mossy-footed  squirrels  leap 

Soft  as  winnowing  plumes  of  Sleep: 

Yaffles  on  a  chuckle  skim 

Low  to  laugh  from  branches  dim : 

Up  the  pine,  where  sits  the  star, 

Rattles  deep  the  moth-winged  jar. 


74  THE   WOODS   OF   WESTERMAIN 

Each  has  business  of  his  own  ; 
«'  But  should  you  distrust  a  tone, 
'  Then  beware. 

Shudder  all  the  haunted  roods, 
All  the  eyeballs  under  hoods 

Shroud  you  in  their  glare. 
Enter  these  enchanted  woods. 
You  who  dare. 


Ill 

Open  hither,  open  hence. 

Scarce  a  bramble  weaves  a  fence, 

Where  the  strawberry  runs  red, 

With  white  star-flower  overhead ; 

Cumbered  by  dry  twig  and  cone, 

Shredded  husks  of  seedlings  flown, 

Mine  of  mole  and  spotted  flint : 

Of  dire  wizardry  no  hint, 

Save  mayhap  the  print  that  shows 

Hasty  outward-tri})ping  toes, 

Heels  to  terror,  on  the  mould. 

These,  the  woods  of  Westermain, 

Are  as  others  to  behold, 

Rich  of  wreathing  sun  and  rain ; 

Eoliage  lustreful  around 

Shadowed  leagues  of  slumbering  sound. 

Wavy  tree-tops,  yellow  whins. 

Shelter  eager  minikins, 

Myriads,  free  to  peck  and  pipe : 

Would  you  better  ?'  would  you  worse  ? 


THE   WOODS    OF    WESTERMALN  75 

You  with  them  may  gather  ripe 

Pleasures  flowing  not  from  purse. 

Quick  and  far  as  Colour  flies 

Taking  the  delighted  eyes, 

You  of  any  well  that  springs  

May  unfold  the  heaven  of  things ; 

Have  it  homely  and  within,  -«-— -^ 

And  thereof  its  likeness  win, 

Will  you  so  in  soul's  desire : 

This  do  sages  grant  t'  the  lyre. 

This  is  being  bird  and  more, 

More  than  glad  musician  this ; 

Granaries  you  will  have  a  store 

Past  the  world  of  woe  and  bliss ; 

Sharing  still  its  bliss  and  woe  ; 

Harnessed  to  its  hungers,  no. 

On  the  throne  Success  usurps, 

You  shall  seat  the  joy  you  feel 

"Where  a  race  of  water  chirps. 

Twisting  hues  of  flourished  steel: 

Or  where  light  is  caught  in  hoop 

Up  a  clearing's  leafy  rise, 

Where  the  crossing  deerherds  troop 
_Classic  splendours,  knightly  dyes. 

Or,  where  old-eyed  oxen  chew 

Speculation  with  the  cud. 

Read  their  pool  of  vision  through, 
,  Back  to  hours  when  mind  was  mud  j 

Nigh  the  knot,  which  did  untwine 

Timelessly  to  drowsy  suns ; 

Seeing  Earth  a  slimy  spine, 


76  THE   WOODS   OF   WESTEEMAIN 

Heaven  a  space  for  winging  tons. 
'  V  Farther,  deeper,  may  you  read, 

r  Have  you  sight  for  things  afield, 

Where  peeps  she,  the  Nurse  of  seed, 
Cloaked,  but  in  the  peep  revealed ; 
'  i^*'*  \  Showing  a  kind  face  and  sweet: 

■  Look  you  with  the  soul  you  see 't. 
\  Glory  narrowing  to  grace, 
/  Grace  to  glory  magnified, 
I^ollowing  that  will  you  embrace 
Close  in  arms  or  aery  wide. 
Banished  is  the  w^hite~Foam-born       /  '    i 
Not  from  here,  nor  under  ban 
Phoebus  lyrist,  Phoebe's  horn, 
Pipings  of  the  reedy  Pan. 
Loved  of  Earth  of  old  they  were, 
Loving  did  interpret  her ;  , 

And  the  sterner  worshig^ bars      '■       '    •    '  ;,,  _ 
None  whom  Song  has  made  her  stars. 
You  have  seen  the  huntress  moon     ^  '^^ ''  '*^^^ 
Eadiantly  facing  dawn,  '  ^  «»-v-'«, 

Dusky  meads  between  them  strewn 
Glimmering  like  downy  awn : 
Argent  Westward  glows  the  hunt, 
East  the  blush  about  to  climb ; 
One  another  fair  they  front, 
Transient,  yet  outshine  the  time ; 
^     J  \   Even  as  dewlight  off  the  rose 

''  oi  "^        )  ^^  ^^®  mind  a  jewel  sows. 

Thus  opposing  grandeurs  live 
Here  if  Beauty  be  their  dower: 


^^J^'^ 


y 


THE   WOODS   OF   WESTERMAIN  77 

Doth  she  of  her  spirit  give, 

Fleetingness  will  spare  her  flower. 

This  is  in  the  tune  we  play, 

Which  no  spring  of  strength  would  quell ; 

In  subduing  does  not  slay ; 

Guides  the  channel,  guards  the  well: 

Tempered  holds  the  young  blood-heat, 

Yet  through  measured  grave  accord, 

Hears  the  heart  of  wildness  beat 

Like  a  centaur's  hoof  on  sward. 

Drink  the  sense  the  notes  infuse, 
,  You  a  larger  seljjfldll&id; 
'  Sweetest  fellowship  ensues 

With  the  creatures  of  your  kind. 

Ay,  and  Love,  if  Love  it  be 

Flaming  over  I  and  ME, 

Love  meet  they  who  do  not  shove 

Cravings  in  the  van  of  Love. 

Courtly  dames  are  here  to  woo, 

Knowing  love  if  it  be  true. 

Eeverence  the  blossom-shoot 

Fervently,  they  are  the  fruit. 

Mark  them  stepping,  hear  them  talk. 

Goddess,  is  no  myth  inane. 

You  will  say  of  those  who  walk 

In  the  woods  of  Westermain. 

Waters  that  from  throat  and  thigh 

Dart  the  sun  his  arrows  back; 

Leaves  that  on  a  woodland  sigh 

Chat  of  secret  things  no  lack  ; 

Shadowy  branch-leaves,  waters  clear, 


78  THE  WOODS   OF    WESTEEIVIAIN 

Bare  or  veiled  tliey  move  sincere  j 

Not  by  slavish  terrors  tripped; 

Being  anew  in  nature  dipped, 

Growths  of  what  they  step  on,  these; 

With  the  roots  the  grace  of  trees. 

Casket-breasts  they  give,  nor  hide, 

For  a  tyrant's  flattered  pride, 

Mind,  which  nourished  not  by  light, 

Lurks  the  shuffling  trickster  sprite  : 

Whereof  are  strange  tales  to  tell  j 

Some  in  blood  writ,  tombed  in  bell. 

Here  the  ancient  battle  ends,       C^^ ^.Jt-^  7? 

Joining  two  astonished  friends,        /  ^   y 

Who  the  kiss  can  give  and  take 

With  more  warmth  than  in  that  world      ,  '^'^-'^ 
--..  Where  the  tiger  claws  the  snake,  ""^^^^^^ 

Snake  her  tiger  clasps  infurled, 

And  the  issue  of  their  fight 

Peoples  lands  in  snarling  plight. 

Here  her  splendid  beast  she  leads 

Silken-leashed  and  decked  with  weeds 

Wild  as  he,  but  breathing  faint 

Sweetness  of  unfelt  constraint. 
\  Love,  the  great  volcano,  flings 

Fires  of  lower  Earth  to  sky ; 
r  Love,  the  sole  permitted,  sings 
\L  Sovereignly  of  ME  and  /.  3 

Bowers  he  has  of  sacred  shade, 

Spaces  of  superb  parade, 

Voiceful  .  .  .  But  bring  you  a  note 

Wrangling,  howsoe'er  remote, 


/I 


c 


THE   WOODS   or   WESTEliMATN  79 

Discords  out  of  discord  spin 
Bound  and  round  derisive  din: 
Sudden  will  a  pallor  pant 
Chill  at  screeches  miscreant ; 
Owls  or  spectres,  thick  they  flee ; 
Nightmare  upon  horror  broods ;  I 
Hooded  laughter,  monkish  ^&ej 

Gaps  the  vital  air. 
Enter  these  enchanted  woods 

You  who  dare. 


IV 


You  must  love  the  light  so  well   CJt^    /-^».^a,**'"i  ' 
That  no  darkness  will  seem  fell.  ^  -^  ~ 

Love  it  so  you  could  accost 
Fellowly  a  livid  ghost. 
Whish !  the  phantom  wisps  away, 
Owns  him  smoke  to  cocks  of  day. 
In  your  breast  the  light  must  burn 
Fed  of  you,  like  corn  in  quern 
Ever  plumping  while  the  wheel 
_^eeds  the  mill  and  drains  the  meal. 
Light  to  light  sees  little  strange, 
Only  features  heavenly  new ; 
( Then  you  touch  the  nerve  of  Change, 
^JThen  of  Earth  y'on'traTe-the  clue  ; 
Then  her  two-scxod  meanings  melt 
Through  yon,  wed  the  thought  and  felt. 
Sameness  locks  no  scurfy  pond 
Here  for  Custom,  crazy-fond : 


80 


THE   WOODS   OF   WESTERMAIN 


-f 


Jlo 


Glad  of  more,  till  you  reject    / ; 
{_  Your  proud  title  of  elect, 


\  Change  is  on  the  wing  to  bud 
/  Kose  in  brain  from  rose  in  blood. 
"Wisdom  throbbing  shall  you  see 
Central  in  complexity ; 
"T  From  her  pasture  'mid  the  beasts 
Rise  to  her  ethereal  feasts, 
Not,  though  lightnings  track  your  wit 
Starward,  scorning  them  you  quit : 
For  be  sure  the  bravest  wing 
Preens  it  in  our  common  spring, 
Thence  along  the  vault  to  soar, 
You  with  others,  gathering  more,  ^ 

Perilous  even  here  while  few  ,-  yat^^\^^^ 

Eoam  the  arched  greenwood  with  you. 
__    Heed  that  snare. 

Muffled  by  his  cavern-cowl 

Squats  the  scaly  Dragon-fowl, 
/Who  was  lord  ere  light  you  drank, 

And  lest  blood  of  knightly  rank 

Stream,  let  not  your  fair  princess 

Stray :  he  holds  the  leagues  in  stress, 
Watches  keenly  there. 

Oft  has  he  been  riven  ;  slain 

Is  no  force  in  Westermain. 

Wait,  and  we  shall  forge  him  curbs. 

Put  his  fangs  to  uses,  tame, 

Teach  him,  quick  as  cunning  herbs, 

How  to  cure  him  sick  and  lame. 

Much  restricted,  much  enringed. 


>.. 


THE  WOODS   OF   WESTEEMAIN  81 

Much  he  frets,  the  hooked  and  winged, 

\^ever  known  to  spare. 
'T  is  enough^  the  name  of  Sage 
Hits  no  thing  in  nature,  nought ; 
Man  the  least,  save  when  grave  Age 
From  yon  Dragon  guards  his  thought. 
Eye  him  when  you  hearken  dumb 
To  what  words  from  Wisdom  come. 
When  she  says  how  few  are  by 
Listening  to  her,  eye  his  eye. 

Self,  his  name  declare. 
'  Him  shall  Change,  transforming  late, 
Wonderously  renovate. 
Hug  himself  the  creature  may : 
What  he  hugs  is  loathed  decay. 
Crying,  slip  thy  scales,  and  slough ! 
Change  will  strip  his  armour  off ; 
Make  of  him  who  was  all  maw, 
Inly  only  thrilling-shrewd, 
Such  a  servant  as  none  saw 
Through  his  days  of  dragonhood. 
Days  when  growling  o'er  his  bone. 
Sharpened  he  for  mine  and  thine  j 
Sensitive  within  alone ; 
Scaly  as  in  clefts  of  pine.  '"^^-^.y 

^  Change,  the  strongest  son  of  Life,  ^^*— 

Has  the  Spirit  here  to  wife. 
Lo,  their  young  of  vivid  breed, 
Bear  the  lights  that  onward  speed, 
Threading  thickets,  mounting  glades, 
Up  the  verdurous  colonnades. 


82  THE  WOODS   OF   WESTEEMAIN 

Round  the  fluttered  curves,  and  down, 
Out  of  sight  of  Earth's  blue  crown, 
Whither,  in  her  central  space, 
Spouts  the  Fount  and  Lure  o'  the  chase. 
Fount  unresting,  Lure  divine ! 
There  meet  all :  too  late  look  most. 
Fire  in  water  hued  as  wine. 
Springs  amid  a  shadowy  host ; 
Circled :  one  close-headed  mob, 
Breathless,  scanning  divers  heaps 
Where  a  Heart  begins  to  throb. 
Where  it  ceases,  slow,  with  leaps. 
And  't  is  very  strange,  't  is  said, 
How  you  spy  in  each  of  them 
Semblance  of  that  Dragon  red, 
^As  the  oak  in  bracken-stem. 
And,  't  is  said,  how  each  and  each : 
Which  commences,  which  subsides: 
First  my  Dragon  !  doth  beseech 
Her  who  food  for  all  provides. 
And  she  answers  with  no  sign; 
Utters  neither  yea  nor  nay ; 
Fires  the  water  hued  as  wine; 
Kneads  another  spark  in  clay. 
Terror  is  about  her  hid ; 
Silence  of  the  thunders  locked ; 
Lightnings  lining  the  shut  lid ; 
Fixity  on  quaking  rocked. 
iLo,  you  look  at  Flow  and  Drought 

rinterflashed  and  interwrought: 
Ended  is  begun,  begun 


THE  WOODS   OF  WESTERIStAIN  83 

Ended,  quickas  torrents  run. 
Young  Impulsion  spouts  to  sink ; 
Luridness  and  lustre  link  ; 
'T  is  your  come  and  go  of  breath ; 
Mirrored  pants  the  Life,  the  Death ; 
Each  of  either  reaped  and  sown : 
Rosiest  rosy  wanes  to  crone. 
See  you  so?  your  senses  drift; 
'T  is  a  shuttle  weaving  swift. 
Look  with  spirit  past  the  sense, ; 
Spirit  shines  in  permanence.      ' 
That  is  She,  the  view  of  whom 
Is  the  dust  within  the  tomb, 
Is  the  inner  blush  above, 
Look  ta  loathe,  or  look  to  loveJP 
Think  her  Lump,  or  know  her  Flame ; 
^'        Drea4^r  scourge,  or  read  her  aim  ; 
Shoot  your  hungers  from  their  nerve ; 
Or,  in  her  example,  serve.  '"    '  ,, 

Some  have  found  her  sitting  grave ; 
Laughing,  some ;  or,  browed  with  sweat, 
Hurling  dust  of  fool  and  knave 
In  a  hissing  smithy's  jet. 
More  it  were  not  well  to  speak; 
Burn  to  see,  you  need  but  seek. 
Once  beheld  she  gives  the  key 
Airing  every  doorway,  she. 
Little  can  you  stop  or  steer 
Ere  of  her  you  are  the  seer. 
On  the  surface  she  will  witch, 
Rendering  Beauty  yours,  but  gaze 


84  THE  WOODS   OF   WESTERMAIN 

Under,  and  the  soul  is  rich 
Past  computing,  past  amaze. 
Then  is  courage  that  endures 
Even  her  awful  tremble  yours. 
Then,  the  reflex  of  that  Fount 
Spied  below,  will  Reason  mount 
Lordly  and  a  quenchless  force, 
Lighting  Pain  to  its  mad  source, 
Scaring  Fear  till  Fear  escapes. 
Shot  through  all  its  phantom  shapes. 
Then  your  spirit  will  perceive 
Fleshly  seed  of  fleshly  sins ; 
Where  the  passions  interweave, 
How  the  serpent  tangle  spins 
Of  the  sense  of  Earth  misprised, 
Brainlessly  unrecognized ; 
She  being  Spirit  in  her  clods, 
'       Footway  to  the  God  of  Gods. 
Then  for  you  are  pleasures  pure, 
Sureties  as  the  stars  are  sure : 
Not  the  wanton  beckoning  flags 
Which,  of  flattery  and  delight. 
Wax  to  the  grim  Habit-Hags 
Riding  souls  of  men  to  night: 
Pleasures  that  through  blood  run  sane, 
Quickening  spirit  from  the  brain. 
Each  of  each  in  sequent  birth, 
(Blood  and  brain  and  spirit,  three 
■'        (Say  the  deepest  gnomes  of  Earth), 
Join  for  true  felicity. 
Are  they  parted,  then  expect 


J 


^ 


THE   WOODS   OF   WESTERMAIN  85 


Some  one  sailing  will  be  wrecked ; 
Separate  hunting  are  they  sped, 
Scan  the  morsel  coveted. 


-fP^ 


'^-€.,. 


/)  Earth  that  Triad  is :  she  hides  > 

V^oj  from  him  who  that  divides  ;  ^a^^i-i. 

Showers  it  when  the  three  are  one 

Glassing  her  in  union. 

Earth  your  haven,  Earth  your  helm, 

You  command  a  double  realm : 

Labouring  here  to  pay  your  debt, 

Till  your  little  sun  shall  set ; 

Leaving  her  the  future  task :  / 

Loving  Tier  too  welT  to  ask. 

Eglantine  that  climbs  the  yew, 

She  her  darkest  wreathes  for  those 

Knowing  her  the  Ever-new, 

And  themselves  the  kin  o'  the  rose. 

Life,  the  chisel,  axe  and  sword. 

Wield  who  have  her  depths  explored: 

Life,  the  dream,  shall  be  their  robe, 

Large  as  air  about  the  globe ; 

Life,  the  question,  hear  its  cry 

Echoed  with  concordant  Why ; 

Life,  the  small  self-dragon  ramped, 

Thrill  for  service  to  be  stamped. 

Ay,  and  over  every  height 

Life  for  them  shall  wave  a  wand : 

That,  the  last,  where  sits  affright, 

Homely  shows  the  stream  beyond. 

Love  the  light  and  be  its  Ij^nx, 

You  will  track  her  and  attain ; 


86  THE  WOODS   OP   WESTEI11VLA.IN 

Read  her  as  uo  cruel  Sphinx 
In  the  woods  of  Westermain. 
Daily  fresh  the  woods  are  ranged ; 
Glooms  which  otherwhere  appal, 
Sounded  :  here,  their  worths  exchanged, 
Urban  joins  with  pastoral : 
/  '    ^'     ,  Little  lost,  save  what  may  drop 
i  'JHusk-like,  and  the  mind  preserves. 

'  Natural  overgrowths  they  lop, 

Yet  from  nature  neither  swerves, 
Trained  or  savage  :  for  this  cause : 
Of  our  Earth  they  ply  the  laws. 
Have  in  Earth  their  feeding  root, 
Mind  of  man  and  bent  of  brute. 
Hear  that  song;  both  wild  and  ruled. 
Hear  it :  is  it  wail  or  mirth  ? 
Ordered,  bubbled,  quite  unschooled  ? 
-^None,  and  all :  it  springs  of  Earth. 
0  but  hear  it  !  't  is  the  mind ; 
Mind  that  with  deep  Earth  unites. 
Round  the  solid  trunk  to  wind 
Rings  of  clasping  parasites. 
Music  have  you  there  to  feed 
Simplest  and  most  soaring  need. 
Free  to  wind,  and  in  desire 
Winding,  they  to  her  attached 
Feel  the  trunk  a  spring  of  fire, 
And  ascend  to  heights  unmatched, 
Whence  the  tidal  world  is  viewed 
As  a  sea  of  windy  wheat, 
Momently  black,  barren,  rude  j 


THE  "WOODS   OF   WESTERilAIN  87 


'J 
j 


Golden-brown,  for  harvest  meet: 
Dragon-reaped  from  folly-sown 
Bride-like  to  the  sickle-blade : 
Quick  it  varies,  while  the  moan, 
Moan  of  a  sad  creature  strayed, 
Chiefly  is  its  voice.     So  flesh 
Conjures  tempest-flails  to  thresh 
Good  from  worthless.     Some  clear  lamps 
Light  it ;  more  of  dead  marsh-damps. 
Monster  is  it  still,  and  blind, 
Fit  but  to  be  led  by  Pain. 
Glance  we  at  the  paths  behind, 
^     Fruitful  sight  has  Westermain. 
There  we  laboured,  and  in  turn 
Forward  our  blown  lamps  discern, 
As  you  see  on  the  dark  deep 
Far  the  loftier  billows  leap. 
Foam  for  beacon  bear. 
Hither,  hither,  if  you  will, 
Drink  instruction,  or  instil, 
Eun  the  woods  like  vernal  sap. 
Crying,  hail  to  luminousness! 
But  have  care. 
_ ^    V     'In  yourself  may  liirk  the  trap : 
On  conditions  they  caress. 
Here  you  meet  the  light  invoked : 
Here  is  never  secret  cloaked. 
Doubt  you  with  the  monster's  fry 
All  his  orbit  may  exclude ; 
Are  youjjfJthe^tiffT-^the-dry, 
Cursing  the  not  understood ; 


88  THE  WOODS   OF   WESTERMAIN 

Grasp  you  with  the  monster's  claws; 
Crovern  with  his  truncheon-saws ; 
\  'Hate,  the  shadow  of  a  grain ; 
:  You  are  lost  in  Westermain : 
Earthward  swoops  a  vulture  sun, 
Nighted  upon  carrion : 
Straightway  venom  winecups  shout 
Toasts  to  One  whose  eyes  are  out : 
Flowers  along  the  reeling  floor 
Drip  henbane  and  hellebore : 
Beauty,  of  her  tresses  shorn, 
Shrieks  as  nature's  maniac : 
Hideousness  on  hoof  and  horn 
Tumbles,  yapping  in  her  track : 
Haggard  Wisdom,  stately  once, 
Leers  fantastical  and  trips : 
Allegory  drums  the  sconce, 
Impiousness  nibblenips. 
Imp  that  dances,  imp  that  flits, 
Imp  o'  the  demon-growing  girl, 
Maddest!  whirl  with  imp  o'  the  pits 
Round  you,  and  with  them  you  whirl 
Fast  where  pours  the  fountain-rout 
Out  of  Him  whose  eyes  are  out : 
Multitudes  on  multitudes, 
Drenched  iu  wallowing  devilry : 
And  you  ask  where  you  may  be, 

In  what  reek  of  a  lair 
Given  to  bones  and  ogre-broods : 

And  they  yell  you  Where. 
Enter  these  enclianted  woods, 

Yqu  who  dare. , 


A  BALLAD   OF  PAST  MERIDIAN 


Last  night  returning  from  my  twilight  walk 
I  met  the  grey  mist  Death,  whose  eyeless  brow 
Was  bent  on  me,  and  from  his  hand  of  chalk 
He  reached  me  flowers  as  from  a  withered  bough : 
O  Death,  what  bitter  nosegays  givest  thou ! 

u 

Death  said,  I  gather,  and  pursued  his  way. 
Another  stood  by  me,  a  shape  in  stone, 
Sword-hacked  and  iron-stained,  with  breasts  of  clay, 
And  metal  veins  that  sometimes  fiery  shone: 
0  Life,  how  naked  and  how  hard  when  known  I 

III 

Life  said.  As  thou  hast  carved  me,  such  am  I. 
Then  memory,  like  the  nightjar  on  the  pine, 
And  sightless  hope,  a  woodlark  in  night  sky, 
Joined  notes  of  Death  and  Life  till  night's  decline ; 
Of  Death,  of  Life,  those  in  wound  notes  are  mine. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 


He  who  has  looked  upon  Earth 
Deeper  than  flower  and  fruit, 
Losing  some  hue  of  his  mirth, 
As  the  tree  striking  rock  at  the  root, 
Unto  him  shall  the  marvellous  tale 
Of  Callistes  more  humanly  come 
With  the  touch  on  his  breast  than  a  hail 
From  the  markets  that  hum. 

II 

Now  the  youth  footed  swift  to  the  dawn. 
*T  was  the  season  when  wintertide, 
In  the  higher  rock -hollows  updrawn, 
Leaves  meadows  to  bud,  and  he  spied. 
By  light  throwing  shallow  shade. 
Between  the  beam  and  the  gloom, 
Sicilian  Enna,  whose  Maid 
Such  aspect  wears  in  her  bloom 
Underneath  since  the  Cbarioteer 
Of  Darkness  whirled  her  away, 
On  a  reaped  afternoon  of  the  year, 
Jfigh  the  poppy-droop  of  Day. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES     91 

0  and  naked  of  her,  all  dust, 

The  majestic  Mother  and  Nurse, 

Ringing  cries  to  the  God,  the  Just, 

Curled  the  land  with  the  blight  of  her  curse : 

Recollected  of  this  glad  isle 

Still  quaking.     But  now  more  fair. 

And  momently  fraying  the  while 

The  veil  of  the  shadows  there, 

Soft  Enna  that  prostrate  grief 

Sang  through,  and  revealed  round  the  vines, 

Bronze-orange,  the  crisp  young  leaf. 

The  wheat-blades  tripping  in  lines, 

A  hue  unillumined  by  sun 

Of  the  flowers  flooding  grass  as  from  founts: 

All  the  penetrable  dun 

Of  the  morn  ere  she  mounts. 


Ill 

Nor  had  saffron  and  sapphire  and  red 

Waved  aloft  to  their  sisters  below. 

When  gaped  by  the  rock-channel  head 

Of  the  lake,  black,  a  cave  at  one  blow. 

Reverberant  over  the  plain : 

A  sound  oft  fearfully  swung 

For  the  coming  of  wrathful  rain : 

And  forth,  like  the  dragon-tongue 

Of  a  fire  beaten  flat  by  the  gale. 

But  more  as  the  smoke  to  behold, 

A  chariot  burst.     Then  a  wail 

Quivered  high  of  the  love  that  would  fold 


92     THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 

Bliss  immeasurable,  bigger  than  heart, 
Though  a  God's :  and  the  wheels  were  stayed, 
And  the  team  of  the  chariot  swart 
Reared  in  marble,  the  six,  dismayed, 
Like  hoofs  that  by  night  plashing  sea 
Curve  and  ramp  from  the  vast  swan-wave: 
For,  lo,  the  Great  Mother,  She ! 
And  Callistes  gazed,  he  gave 
His  eyeballs  up  to  the  sight : 
The  embrace  of  the  Twain,  of  whom 
To  men  are  their  day,  their  night, 
Mellow  fruits  and  the  shearing  tomb : 
Our  Lady  of  the  Sheaves 
And  the  Lily  of  Hades,  the  Sweet 
Of  Enna :  he  saw  through  leaves 
The  Mother  and  Daughter  meet. 
They  stood  by  the  chariot-wheel, 
Embraced,  very  tall,  most  like 
Fellow  poplars,  wind-taken,  that  reel 
Down  their  shivering  columns  and  strike 
Head  to  head,  crossing  throats  :  and  apart, 
For  the  feast  of  the  look,  they  drew, 
Which  Darkness  no  longer  could  thwart ; 
And  they  broke  together  anew, 
Exulting  to  tears,  flower  and  bud. 
But  the  mate  of  the  Rayless  was  grave : 
She  smiled  like  Sleep  on  its  flood. 
That  washes  of  all  we  crave : 
Like  the  trance  of  eyes  awake 
And  the  spirit  enslirouded,  she  cast 
The  wan  underworld  on  the  lake. 
;  They  were  so,  and  they  passed. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES     93 


IV 


He  tells  it,  who  knew  the  law 
Upon  mortals  :  he  stood  alive 
Declaring  that  this  he  saw : 
He  could  see,  and  survive. 


Now  the  youth  was  not  ware  of  the  beams 

With  the  grasses  intertwined, 

For  each  thing  seen,  as  in  dreams. 

Came  stepping  to  rear  through  his  mind, 

Till  it  struck  his  remembered  prayer 

To  be  witness  of  this  which  had  flown 

Like  a  smoke  melted  thinner  than  air, 

That  the  vacancy  doth  disown. 

And  viewing  a  maiden,  he  thought 

It  might  now  be  morn,  and  afar 

Within  him  the  memory  wrought 

Of  a  something  that  slipped  from  the  car 

When  those,  the  august,  moved  by : 

Perchance  a  scarf,  and  perchance 

This  maiden.     She  did  not  fly, 

Nor  started  at  his  advance  : 

She  looked,  as  when  infinite  thirst 

Pants  pausing  to  bless  the  springs, 

Refreshed,  unsated.     Then  first 

He  trembled  with  awe  of  the  things 


94     THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OP  HADES 

He  had  seen ;  and  lie  did  transfer, 
Divining  and  doubting  in  turn, 
His  reverence  unto  her; 
Nor  asked  what  he  crouched  to  learn ; 
The  whence  of  her,  whither,  and  why 
Her  presence  there,  and  her  name, 
Her  parentage  :  under  which  sky 
Her  birth,  and  how  hither  she  came, 
So  young,  a  virgin,  alone. 
Unfriended,  having  no  fear, 
As  Oreads  have  ;  no  moan. 
Like  the  lost  upon  earth  ;  no  tear; 
Kot  a  sign  of  the  torch  in  the  blood, 
Though  her  stature  had  reached  the  height 
When  mantles  a  tender  rud 
In  maids  that  of  youths  have  sight, 
If  maids  of  our  seed  they  be : 
For  he  said :  A  glad  vision  art  thou  ! 
And  she  answered  hiin  :  Thou  to  me  I 
As  men  utter  a  vow. 


VI 

Then  said  she,  quick  as  the  cries 
Of  the  rainy  cranes  :  Light !  light ! 
And  Helios  rose  in  her  eyes, 
That  were  full  as  the  dew-balls  bright, 
Kelucent  to  him  as  dews 
Unshaded.     Breathing,  she  sent 
Her  voice  to  the  God  of  the  Muse, 
And  along  the  vale  it  went. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OP  HADES     95 

Strange  to  hear;  not  thin,  not  shrill: 

Sweet,  but  no  young  maid's  throat : 

The  echo  beyond  the  hill 

Ran  falling  on  half  the  note  : 

And  under  the  shaken  ground 

Where  the  Hundred-headed  groans 

By  the  roots  of  great  ^Etna  bound, 

As  of  him  were  hollow  tones 

Of  wondering  roared  :  a  tale 

Repeated  to  sunless  halls. 

But  now  off  the  face  of  the  vale 

Shadows  fled  in  a  breath,  and  the  walls 

Of  the  lake's  rock-head  were  gold, 

And  the  breast  of  the  lake,  that  swell 

Of  the  crestless  long  wave  rolled 

To  shore-bubble,  pebble  and  shell. 

A  morning  of  radiant  lids 

O'er  the  dance  of  the  earth  opened  wide : 

The  bees  chose  their  flowers,  the  snub  kids 

Upon  hindlegs  went  sportive,  or  plied, 

Nosing,  hard  at  the  dugs  to  be  filled : 

There  was  milk,  honey,  music  to  make : 

Up  their  branches  the  little  birds  billed  : 

Chirrup,  drone,  bleat  and  buzz  ringed  the  lake. 

O  shining  in  sunlight,  chief 

After  water  and  water's  caress, 

"Was  the  young  bronze-orange  leaf. 

That  clung  to  the  tree  as  a  tress, 

Shooting  lucid  tendrils  to  wed 

With  the  vine-hook  tree  or  pole. 

Like  Arachne  launched  out  on  her  thread. 


96  THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAtJGHTER  OE  HADES 

Then  the  maiden  her  dusky  stole 

In  the  span  of  the  black-starred  zone. 

Gathered  up  for  her  footing  fleet. 

As  one  that  had  toil  of  her  own 

She  followed  the  lines  of  wheat 

Tripping  straight  through  the  field,  green  blades, 

To  the  groves  of  olive  grey, 

Downy-grey,  golden-tinged :  and  to  glades 

Where  the  pear-blossom  thickens  the  spray 

In  a  night,  like  the  snow-packed  storm  : 

Pear,  apple,  almond,  plum  : 

Not  wintry  now :  pushing,  warm  ! 

And  she  touched  them  with  finger  and  thumb, 

As  the  vine-hook  closes :  she  smiled, 

Recounting  again  and  again, 

Corn,  wine,  fruit,  oil !  like  a  child, 

With  the  meaning  known  to  men. 

For  hours  in  the  track  of  the  plough 

And  the  pruning-knife  she  stepped, 

And  of  how  the  seed  works,  and  of  how 

Yields  the  soil,  she  seemed  adept. 

Then  she  murmured  that  name  of  the  dearth, 

The  Beneficent,  Hers,  who  bade 

Our  husbandmen  sow  for  the  birth 

Of  the  grain  making  earth  full  glad. 

She  murmured  that  Other's  :  the  dirge 

Of  life-light :  for  whose  dark  lap 

Our  locks  are  clipped  on  the  verge 

Of  the  realm  where  runs  no  sap. 

She  said  :  We  have  looked  on  both  ! 

And  her  eyes  had  a  wavering  beam 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES     97 

Of  various  lights,  like  the  froth 
Of  the  storm-swollen  ravine  stream 
In  flame  of  the  bolt.     What  links 
Were  these  which  had  made  him  her  friend  ? 
He  eyed  her,  as  one  who  drinks, 
And  would  drink  to  the  end. 


VII 

Now  the  meadows  with  crocus  besprent, 

And  the  asphodel  woodsides  she  left, 

And  the  lake-slopes,  the  ravishing  scent 

Of  narcissus,  dark-sweet,  for  the  cleft 

That  tutors  the  torrent-brook, 

Delaying  its  forceful  spleen 

With  many  a  wind  and  crook 

Through  rock  to  the  broad  ravine. 

By  the  hyacinth-bells  in  the  brakes, 

And  the  shade-loved  white  windflower,  half  hid, 

And  the  sun-loving  lizards  and  snakes 

On  the  cleft's  barren  ledges,  that  slid 

Out  of  sight,  smooth  as  waterdrops,  all, 

At  a  snap  of  twig  or  bark 

In  the  track  of  the  foreign  foot-fall, 

She  climbed  to  the  pineforest  dark, 

Overbrowing  an  emerald  chine 

Of  the  glass-billows.     Thence,  as  a  wreath, 

Running  poplar  and  cypress  to  pine, 

The  lake-banks  are  seen,  and  beneath, 

Vineyard,  village,  groves,  rivers,  towers,  farms. 

The  citadel  watching  the  bay, 


98     THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 

The  bay  with  the  town  in  its  arms, 

The  town  shining  white  as  the  spray 

Of  the  sapphire  sea-wave  on  the  rock, 

Where  the  rock  stars  the  girdle  of  sea, 

White-ringed,  as  the  midday  flock, 

Clipped  by  heat,  rings  the  round  of  the  tree. 

That  hour  of  the  piercing  shaft 

Transfixes  bough-shadows,  confused 

In  veins  of  fire,  and  she  laughed, 

With  her  quiet  mouth  amused, 

To  see  the  whole  flock,  adroop. 

Asleep,  hug  the  tree-stem  as  one, 

Imperceptibly  filling  the  loop 

Of  its  shade  at  a  slant  of  sun. 

The  pipes  under  pent  of  the  crag, 

Where  the  goatherds  in  piping  recline, 

Have  whimsical  stops,  burst  and  flag 

Uncorrected  as  outstretched  swine  : 

Yov  the  fingers  are  slack  and  unsure. 

And  the  wind  issues  querulous  : — thorns 

And  snakes  !  —  but  she  listened  demure, 

Comparing  day's  music  with  morn's. 

Of  the  gentle  spirit  that  slips 

From  the  bark  of  the  tree  she  discoursed, 

And  of  her  of  the  wells,  whose  lips 

Are  coolness  enchanting,  rock-sourced. 

And  much  of  the  sacred  loon, 

The  frolic,  the  Goatfoot  God, 

For  stories  of  indolent  noon 

In  the  pineforest's  odorous  nod. 

She  questioned,  not  knowing :  he  can 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OP  HADES     99 

Be  waspish,  irascible,  rude, 

He  is  oftener  friendly  to  man, 

And  ever  to  beasts  and  their  brood. 

For  the  which  did  she  love  him  well, 

She  said,  and  his  pipes  of  the  reed, 

His  twitched  lips  puffing  to  tell 

In  music  his  tears  and  his  need. 

Against  the  sharp  catch  of  his  hurt. 

Not  as  shepherds  of  Pan  did  she  speak, 

Nor  spake  as  the  schools,  to  divert, 

But  fondly,  perceiving  him  weak 

Before  Gods,  and  to  shepherds  a  fear, 

A  holiness,  horn  and  heel. 

All  this  she  had  learnt  in  her  ear 

From  Callistes,  and  taught  him  to  feel. 

Yea,  the  solemn  divinity  flushed 

Through  the  shaggy  brown  skin  of  the  beast. 

And  the  steeps  where  the  cataract  rushed, 

And  the  wilds  where  the  forest  is  priest, 

Were  his  temple  to  clothe  him  in  awe, 

While  she  spake  :  't  was  a  wonder  :  she  read 

The  haunts  of  the  beak  and  the  claw 

As  plain  as  the  land  of  bread. 

But  Cities  and  martial  States, 

Whither  soon  the  youth  veered  his  theme. 

Were  impervious  barrier-gates 

To  her  :  and  that  ship,  a  trireme, 

Nearing  harbour,  scarce  wakened  her  glance, 

Though  he  dwelt  on  the  message  it  bore 

Of  sceptre  and  sword  and  lance 

To  the  bee-swarms  black  on  the  shore. 


100    THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 

Which  were  audible  almost, 
So  black  they  were.     It  befell 
That  he  called  up  the  warrior  host 
Of  the  Song  pouring  hydromel 
In  thunder,  the  wide-winged  Song. 
And  he  named  with  his  boyish  pride 
The  heroes,  the  noble  throng 
Past  Acheron  now,  foul  tide  ! 
With  his  joy  of  the  godlike  band 
And  the  verse  divine,  he  named 
The  chiefs  pressing  hot  on  the  strand, 
Seen  of  Gods,  of  Gods  aided,  and  maimed. 
The  fieetfoot  and  ireful ;  the  King  ; 
Him,  the  prompter  in  stratagem. 
Many-shifted  and  masterful :  Sing, 
0  Muse !     But  she  cried :  Not  of  them ! 
She  breathed  as  if  breath  had  failed. 
And  her  eyes,  while  she  bade  him  desist, 
Held  the  lost-to-light  ghosts  grey-mailed, 
As  you  see  the  grey  river-mist 
Hold  shapes  on  the  yonder  bank. 
A  moment  her  body  waned, 
The  light  of  her  sprang  and  sank : 
Then  she  looked  at  the  sun,  she  regained 
Clear  feature,  and  she  breathed  deep. 
She  wore  the  wan  smile  he  had  seen,    . 
As  the  flow  of  the  river  of  Sleep, 
On  the  mouth  of  the  Shadow-Queen. 
In  sunlight  she  craved  to  bask. 
Saying:  Life!     And  who  was  she ?  who? 
Of  what  issue  ?     He  dared  not  ask, 
For  that  partly  he  knew. 


THE  DAY   OF   THE   DAUGHTER   OF   HADES         101 


VIII 

A  noise  of  the  hollow  ground 

Turned  the  eye  to  the  ear  in  debate : 

Not  the  soft  overflowing  of  sound 

Of  the  pines,  ranked,  lofty,  straight, 

Barely  swayed  to  some  whispers  remote, 

Some  swarming  whispers  above  : 

Not  the  pines  with  the  faint  airs  afloat. 

Hush-hushing  the  nested  dove  : 

It  was  not  the  pines,  or  the  rout 

Oft  heard  from  mid-forest  in  chase, 

But  the  long  muffled  roar  of  a  shout 

Subterranean.     Sharp  grew  her  face. 

She  rose,  yet  not  moved  by  affright ; 

'T  was  rather  good  haste  to  use 

Her  holiday  of  delight 

In  the  beams  of  the  God  of  the  Muse. 

And  the  steeps  of  the  forest  she  crossed, 

On  its  dry  red  sheddings  and  cones 

Up  the  paths  by  roots  green-mossed, 

Spotted  amber,  and  old  mossed  stones. 

Then  out  where  the  brook-torrent  starts 

To  her  leap,  and  from  bend  to  curve 

A  hurrying  elbow  darts 

For  the  instant-glancing  swerve, 

Decisive,  with  violent  will 

In  the  action  formed,  like  hers, 

The  maiden's,  ascending  ;  and  still 

Ascending,  the  bud  of  the  furze. 

The  broom,  and  all  blue-berried  shoots 


102    THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTEK  OF  HADES 

Of  stubborn  and  prickly  kind, 

The  juniper  flat  on  its  roots, 

The  dwarf  rhododaphne,  behind 

She  left,  and  the  mountain  sheep 

Far  behind,  goat,  herbage  and  flower. 

The  island  was  hers,  and  the  deep, 

All  heaven,  a  golden  hour. 

Then  with  wonderful  voice  that  rang 

Through  air  as  the  swan's  nigh  death, 

Of  the  glory  of  Light  she  sang, 

She  sang  of  the  rapture  of  Breath. 

Nor  ever,  says  he  who  heard. 

Heard  Earth  in  her  boundaries  broad, 

From  bosom  of  singer  or  bird 

A  sweetness  thus  rich  of  the  God 

Whose  harmonies  always  are  sane. 

She  sang  of  furrow  and  seed, 

The  burial,  birth  of  the  grain, 

The  growth,  and  the  showers  that  feed. 

And  the  green  blades  waxing  mature 

For  the  husbandman's  armful  brown. 

O,  the  song  in  its  burden  ran  pure, 

And  burden  to  song  was  a  crown. 

Callistes,  a  singer,  skilled 

In  the  gift  he  could  measure  and  praise, 

By  a  rival's  art  was  thrilled, 

Though  she  sang  but  a  Song  of  Days, 

Where  the  husbandman's  toil  and  strife 

Little  varies  to  strife  and  toil : 

But  the  milkv  kernel  of  life, 

With  her  numbered  :  corn,  wine,  fruit,  oil  I 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES    103 

The  song  did  give  him  to  eat: 
Gave  the  first  rapt  vision  of  Good, 
And  the  fresh  young  sense  of  Sweet : 
The  grace  of  the  battle  for  food, 
With  the  issue  Earth  cannot  refuse 
When  men  to  their  labour  are  sworn. 
*T  was  a  song  of  the  God  of  the  Muse 
To  the  forehead  of  Morn. 


IX 

Him  loved  she.     Lo,  now  was  he  veiled: 
Over  sea  stood  a  swelled  cloud-rack: 
The  fishing-boat  havenward  sailed, 
Bent  abeam  with  a  whitened  track, 
Surprised,  fast  hauling  the  net, 
As  it  flew  :  sea  dashed,  earth  shook. 
She  said  :  Is  it  night  ?     0  not  yet ! 
With  a  travail  of  thoughts  in  her  look. 
The  mountain  heaved  up  to  its  peak : 
Sea  darkened  :  earth  gathered  her  fowl : 
Of  bird  or  of  branch  rose  the  shriek. 
Night  ?  but  never  so  fell  a  scowl 
Wore  night,  nor  the  sky  since  then 
When  ocean  ran  swallowing  shore, 
And  the  Gods  looked  down  for  men. 
Broke  tempest  with  that  stern  roar 
Never  yet,  save  when  black  on  the  whirl 
Rode  wrath  of  a  sovereign  Power. 
Then  the  youth  and  the  shuddering  girl, 
Dim  as  shades  in  the  angry  shower, 


104    THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 

Joined  hands  and  descended  a  maze 

Of  the  paths  that  were  racing  alive 

Round  boulder  and  bush,  cleaving  ways, 

Incessant,  with  sound  of  a  hive. 

The  height  was  a  fountain-urn 

Pouring  streams,  and  tlie  whole  solid  height 

Leaped,  chasing  at  every  turn 

The  pair  in  one  spirit  of  flight 

To  the  folding  pineforest.     Yet  here, 

Like  the  pause  to  things  hunted,  in  doubt, 

The  stillness  bred  spectral  fear 

Of  the  awfulness  ranging  without. 

And  imminent.     Downward  they  fled, 

From  under  the  haunted  roof, 

To  the  valley  aquake  with  the  tread 

Of  an  iron-resounding  hoof, 

As  of  legions  of  thunderful  horse 

Broken  loose  and  in  line  tramping  hard. 

For  the  rage  of  a  hungry  force 

Roamed  blind  of  its  mark  over  sward : 

They  saw  it  rush  dense  in  the  cloak 

Of  its  travelling  swathe  of  steam, 

All  the  vale  through  a  thin  thread-smoke 

Was  thrown  back  to  distance  extreme : 

And  dull  the  full  breast  of  it  blinked, 

Like  a  buckler  of  steel  breathed  o'er, 

Diminished,  in  strangetiess  distinct. 

Glowing  cold,  unearthly,  hoar: 

An  Enna  of  fields  beyond  sun, 

Out  of  light,  in  a  lurid  web. 

And  the  traversing  fury  spun 


THE  DAY   OF   THE  DAUGHTER   OF   HADES  105 

Up  and  down  with  a  wave's  flow  and  ebb ; 
As  the  wave  breaks  to  grasp  and  to  spurn, 
Ketire,  and  in  ravenous  greed, 
Inveterate,  swell  its  return. 
Up  and  down,  as  if  wringing  from  speed 
Sights  that  made  the  unsighted  appear, 
Delude  and  dissolve,  on  it  scoured. 
Lo,  a  sea  upon  land  held  career 
Through  the  plain  of  the  vale  half-devoured. 
Callistes  of  home  and  escape 
Muttered  swiftly,  unwitting  of  speech. 
She  gazed  at  the  Void  of  shape, 
She  put  her  white  hand  to  his  reach, 
Saying :  Now  have  we  looked  on  the  Three. 
And  divided  from  day,  from  night. 
From  air  that  is  breath,  stood  she, 
Like  the  vale,  out  of  light. 


Then  again  in  disorderly  words 
He  muttered  of  home,  and  was  mute, 
With  the  heart  of  the  cowering  birds 
Ere  they  burst  off  the  fowler's  foot. 
He  gave  her  some  redness  that  streamed 
Through  her  limbs  in  a  flitting  glow. 
The  sigh  of  our  life  she  seemed, 
The  bliss  of  it  clothing  in  woe. 
Frailer  than  flower  when  the  round 
Of  the  sickle  encircles  it :  strong 
To  tell  of  the  things  profound, 


106    THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 

Our  inmost  uttering  song, 

Unspoken.     So  stood  she  awhile 

In  the  gloom  of  the  terror  afield, 

And  the  silence  about  her  smile 

Said  more  than  of  tongue  is  revealed. 

I  have  breathed :  I  have  gazed :  I  have  been : 

It  said :  and  not  joylessly  shone 

The  remembrance  of  light  through  the  screen 

Of  a  face  that  seemed  shadow  and  stone. 

She  led  the  youth  trembling,  appalled, 

To  the  lake-banks  he  saw  sink  and  rise 

Like  a  panic-struck  breast.     Then  she  called, 

And  the  hurricane  blackness  had  eyes. 

It  launched  like  the  Thunderer's  bolt. 

Pale  she  drooped,  and  the  youth  by  her  side 

Would  have  clasped  her  and  dared  a  revolt 

Sacrilegious  as  ever  defied 

High  Olympus,  but  vainly  for  strength 

His  compassionate  heart  shook  a  frame 

Stricken  rigid  to  ice  all  its  length. 

On  amain  the  black  traveller  came. 

Lo,  a  chariot,  cleaving  the  storm, 

Clove  the  fountaining  lake  with  a  plough, 

And  the  lord  of  the  steeds  was  in  form 

He,  the  God  of  implacable  brow, 

Darkness :  he  :  he  in  person :  he  raged 

Through  the  wave  like  a  boar  of  the  wilds 

From  ohe  hunters  and  hounds  disengaged, 

And  a  name  shouted  hoarsely  :  his  child's. 

Horror  melted  in  anguish  to  hear. 

Lo,  the  wave  hissed  apart  for  the  path 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES    107 

Of  the  terrible  Charioteer, 
With  the  foam  and  torn  features  of  wrath, 
Hurled  aloft  on  each  arm  in  a  sheet ; 
And  the  steeds  clove  it,  rushing  at  land 
Like  the  teeth  of  the  famished  at  meat. 
Then  he  swept  out  his  hand. 


XI 

This,  no  more,  doth  Callistes  recall : 
He  saw,  ere  he  dropped  in  swoon, 
On  the  maiden  the  chariot  fall, 
As  a  thundercloud  swings  on  the  moon. 
Forth,  free  of  the  deluge,  one  cry 
From  the  vanishing  gallop  rose  clear : 
And :  Skiageneia !  the  sky 
Bang :  Skiageneia  !  the  sphere. 
And  she  left  him  therewith,  to  rejoice, 
Repine,  yearn,  and  know  not  his  aim, 
The  life  of  their  day  in  her  voice, 
Left  her  life  in  her  name. 


ZII 

Kow  the  valley  in  ruin  of  fields 
And  fair  meadowland,  showing  at  eve 
Like  the  spear-pitted  warrior's  shields 
After  battle,  bade  men  believe 
That  no  other  than  wrathfullest  God 
Had  been  loose  on  her  beautiful  breast, 


108    THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 

Where  the  flowery  grass  was  clod, 

Wheat  and  vine  as  a  trailing  nest. 

The  valley,  discreet  in  grief, 

Disclosed  but  the  open  truth, 

And  Enna  had  hope  of  the  sheaf : 

There  was  none  for  the  desolate  youth 

Devoted  to  mourn  and  to  crave. 

Of  the  secret  he  had  divined 

Of  his  friend  of  a  day  would  he  rave : 

How  for  light  of  our  earth  she  pined : 

For  the  olive,  the  vine  and  the  wheat, 

Burning  through  with  inherited  fire : 

And  when  Mother  went  Mother  to  meet, 

She  was  prompted  by  simple  desire 

In  the  day-destined  car  to  have  place 

At  the  skirts  of  the  Goddess,  unseen, 

And  be  drawn  to  the  dear  earth's  face. 

She  was  fire  for  the  blue  and  the  green 

Of  our  earth,  dark  fire;  athirst 

As  a  seed  of  her  bosom  for  dawn. 

White  air  that  had  robed  and  nursed 

Her  mother.     Now  was  she  gone 

With  the  Silent,  the  God  without  tear, 

Like  a  bud  peeping  out  of  its  sheath 

To  be  sundered  and  stamped  with  the  sere. 

And  Callistes  to  her  beneath. 

As  she  to  our  beams,  extinct. 

Strained  arms :  he  was  shade  of  her  shade. 

In  division  so  were  they  linked. 

But  the  song  which  had  betrayed 

Her  flight  to  the  cavernous  ear 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OP  HADES    109 

For  its  own  keenly  wakeful :  that  song 

Of  the  sowing  and  reaping,  and  cheer 

Of  the  husbandman's  heart  made  strong 

Through  droughts  and  deluging  rains 

With  his  faith  in  the  Great  Mother's  love  : 

0  the  joy  of  the  breath  she  sustains, 

And  the  lyre  of  the  light  above. 

And  the  first  rapt  vision  of  Good, 

And  the  fresh  young  sense  of  Sweet: 

That  song  the  youth  ever  pursued 

In  the  track  of  her  footing  fleet. 

For  men  to  be  profited  much 

By  her  day  upon  earth  did  he  sing : 

Of  her  voice,  and  her  steps,  and  her  touch 

On  the  blossoms  of  tender  Spring, 

Immortal :  and  how  in  her  soul 

She  is  with  them,  and  tearless  abides, 

Folding  grain  of  a  love  for  one  goal 

In  patience,  past  flowing  of  tides. 

And  if  unto  him  she  was  tears. 

He  wept  not :  he  wasted  within  : 

Seeming  sane  in  the  song,  to  his  peers. 

Only  crazed  where  the  cravings  begin. 

Our  Lady  of  Gifts  prized  he  less 

Than  her  issue  in  darkness  :  the  dim 

Lost  Skiageneia's  caress 

Of  our  earth  made  it  richest  for  him. 

And  for  that  was  a  curse  on  him  raised, 

And  he  withered  rathe,  dry  to  his  prime. 

Though  the  bounteous  Giver  be  praised 

Through  the  island  with  rites  of  old  time 


no    THE  DAY  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HADES 

Exceedingly  fervent,  and  reaped 
Veneration  for  teachings  devout, 
Pious  hymms  when  the  corn-sheaves  are  heaped, 
And  the  wine-presses  ruddily  spout. 
And  the  olive  and  apple  are  juice 
At  a  touch  light  as  hers  lost  below. 
Whatsoever  to  men  is  of  use 
Sprang  his  worship  of  them  who  bestow. 
In  a  measure  of  songs  unexcelled : 
But  that  soul  loving  earth  and  the  sun 
From  her  home  of  the  shadows  he  held 
For  his  beacon  where  beam  there  is  none : 
And  to  join  her,  or  have  her  brought  back, 
In  his  frenzy  the  singer  would  call. 
Till  he  followed  where  never  was  track. 
On  the  path  trod  of  all. 


THE  LAEK   ASCENDING 

He  rises  and  begins  to  round, 
He  drops  the  silver  chain  of  sound, 
Of  many  links  without  a  break, 
In  chirrup,  whistle,  slur  and  shake. 
All  intervolved  and  spreading  wide, 
Like  water-dimples  down  a  tide 
Where  ripple  ripple  overcurls 
And  eddy  into  eddy  whirls  ; 
A  press  of  hurried  notes  that  run 
So  fleet  they  scarce  are  more  than  one, 
Yet  changeingly  the  trills  repeat 
And  linger  ringing  while  they  fleet. 
Sweet  to  the  quick  o'  the  ear,  and  dear 
To  her  beyond  the  handmaid  ear. 
Who  sits  beside  our  inner  springs, 
Too  often  dry  for  this  he  brings, 
Which  seems  the  very  jet  of  earth 
At  sight  of  sun,  her  music's  mirth, 
As  up  he  wings  the  spiral  stair, 
A  song  of  light,  and  pierces  air 
With  fountain  ardour,  fountain  play, 
To  reach  the  shining  tops  of  day, 
And  drink  in  everything  discerned 
An  ecstasy  to  music  turned, 


112  THE   LARK   ASCENDING 

Impelled  by  what  his  happy  bill 
Disperses ;  drinking,  showering  still, 
Unthinking  save  that  he  may  give 
His  voice  the  outlet,  there  to  live 
Renewed  in  endless  notes  of  glee, 
So  thirsty  of  his  voice  is  he, 
For  all  to  hear  and  all  to  know 
'  That  he  is  joy,  awake,  aglow, 
The  tumult  of  the  heart  to  hear 
Through  pureness  filtered  crystal-clear. 
And  know  the  pleasure  sprinkled  bright 
By  simple  singing  of  delight, 
Shrill,  irreflective,  unrestrained, 
Rapt,  ringing,  on  the  jet  sustained 
Without  a  break,  without  a  fall, 
Sweet-silvery,  sheer  lyrical, 
Perennial,  quavering  up  the  chord 
Like  myriad  dews  of  sunny  sward 
That  trembling  into  fulness  shine, 
And  sparkle  dropping  argentine ; 
Such  wooing  as  the  ear  receives 
From  zephyr  caught  in  choric  leaves 
Of  aspens  when  their  chattering  net 
Is  flushed  to  white  with  shivers  wet ; 
And  such  the  water-spirit's  chime 
On  mountain  heights  in  morning's  prime, 
Too  freshly  sweet  to  seem  excess, 
Too  animate  to  need  a  stress ; 
But  wider  over  many  heads 
The  starry  voice  ascending  spreads, 
Awakening,  as  it  waxes  thin, 


\ 


THE  LARK  ASCENDING  113 

The  best  in  us  to  him  akin ; 
And  every  face  to  watch  him  raised, 
Puts  on  the  light  of  children  praised, 
So  rich  our  human  pleasure  ripes 
When  sweetness  on  sincereness  pipes, 
Though  nought  be  promised  from  the  seas, 
But  only  a  soft-ruffling  breeze 
Sweep  glittering  on  a  still  content. 
Serenity  in  ravishment. 

For  singing  till  his  heaven  fills, 
'T  is  love  of  earth  that  he  instils, 
And  ever  winging  up  and  up, 
Our  valley  is  his  golden  cup, 
And  he  the  wine  which  overflows 
To  lift  us  with  him  as  he  goes : 
The  woods  and  brooks,  the  sheep  and  kine. 
He  is,  the  hills,  the  human  line, 
The  meadows  green,  the  fallows  brown. 
The  dreams  of  labour  in  the  town ; 
He  sings  the  sap,  the  quickened  veins ; 
The  wedding  song  of  sun  and  rains 
He  is,  the  dance  of  children,  thanks 
Of  sowers,  shout  of  primrose-banks, 
And  eye  of  violets  while  they  breathe ; 
All  these  the  circling  song  will  wreathe, 
And  you  shall  hear  the  herb  and  tree. 
The  better  heart  of  men  shall  see, 
Shall  feel  celestially,  as  long 
;    As  you  crave  nothing  save  the  song. 


11-i  THE  LARK  ASCENDING 

Was  never  voice  of  ours  could  say 
Our  inmost  in  the  sweetest  way, 
Like  yonder  voice  aloft,  and  link 
All  hearers  in  the  song  they  drink. 
Our  wisdom  speaks  from  failing  blood, 
Our  passion  is  too  full  in  flood, 
We  want  the  key  of  his  wild  note 
Of  truthful  in  a  tuneful  throat, 
The  soDg  seraphically  free 
Of  taint  of  personality, 
So  pure  that  it  salutes  the  suns 
The  voice  of  one  for  millions, 
/  In  whom  the  millions  rejoice 
For  giving  their  one  spirit  voice. 

Yet  men  have  we,  whom  we  revere, 
Now  names,  and  men  still  housing  here, 
Whose  lives,  by  many  a  battle-dint 
Defaced,  and  grinding  wheels  on  flint, 
Yield  substance,  though  they  sing  not,  sweet 
For  song  our  highest  heaven  to  greet : 
Whom  heavenly  singing  gives  us  new, 
Enspheres  them  brilliant  in  our  blue, 
From  firmest  base  to  farthest  leap, 
Because  their  love  of  Earth  is  deep, 
;  And  they  are  warriors  in  accord 
'    With  life  to  serve,  and  pass  reward, 
So  touching  purest  and  so  heard 
In  the  brain's  reflex  of  yon  bird : 


THE  LARK   ASCEXDING  115 

Wherefore  their  soul  in  me,  or  mine, 

Through  self-forgetfulness  divine, 

In  them,  that  song  aloft  maintains, 

To  fill  the  sky  and  thrill  the  plains 

With  showerings  drawn  from  human  stores, 

As  he  to  silence  nearer  soars. 

Extends  the  world  at  wings  and  dome, 

More  spacious  making  more  our  home, 

Till  lost  on  his  aerial  rings 

In  light,  and  then  the  fancy  sings. 


)'onh-ujAi/'^   ^j6knxL.- 


PHOEBUS  WITH  ADMETUS 


When  by  Zeus  relenting  the  mandate  was  revoked, 

Sentencing  to  exile  the  bright  Sun-God, 
Mindful  were  the  ploughmen  of  who  the  steer  had  yoked, 

Who :  and  what  a  track  showed  the  upturned  sod ! 
Mindful  were  the  shepherds  as  now  the  noon  severe 

Bent  a  burning  eyebrow  to  brown  evetide, 
How  the  rustic  flute  drew  the  silver  to  the  sphere, 
Sister  of  his  own,  till  her  rays  fell  wide. 
God  !  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure, 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


II 

Chirping  none  the  scarlet  cicalas  crouched  in  ranks : 
Slack  the  thistle-head  piled  its  down-silk  grey  : 

Scarce  the  stony  lizard  sucked  hollows  in  his  flanks  : 
Thick  on  spots  of  umbrage  our  drowsed  flocks  lay. 


PHOEBUS   WITH   ADIVIETUS  117 

Sudden  bowed  the  chestnuts  beneath  a  wind  unheard, 

Lengthened  ran  the  grasses,  the  sky  grew  slate : 
Then  amid  a  swift  flight  of  winged  seed  white  as  curd, 
Clear  of  limb  a  Youth  smote  the  master's  gate. 
God  !  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure, 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


Ill    ^ 

Water,  first  of  singers,  o'er  rocky  mount  and  mead, 

First  of  earthly  singers,  the  sun-loved  rill. 
Sang  of  him,  and  flooded  the  ripples  on  the  reed, 

Seeking  whom  to  waken  and  what  ear  fill. 
Water,  sweetest  soother  to  kiss  a  wound  and  cool, 

Sweetest  and  divinest,  the  sky-born  brook, 
Chuckled,  with  a  whimper,  and  made  a  mirror-pool 
Eound  the  guest  we  welcomed,  the  strange  hand  shook. 
God  !  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure. 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


IV 

Many  swarms  of  wild  bees  descended  on  our  fields : 
Stately  stood  the  wheatstalk  with  head  bent  high : 

Big  of  heart  we  laboured  at  storing  mighty  yields, 
Wool  and  corn,  and  clusters  to  make  men  cry  ! 


118  PHOEBUS  WITH  ADMETUS 

Hand-like  rushed  the  vintage;  we  strung  the  bellied  skins 

Plump,  and  at  the  sealing  the  Youth's  voice  rose  : 
Maidens  clung  in  circle,  on  little  fists  their  chins ; 
Gentle  beasties  through  pushed  a  cold  long  nose. 
God  !  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure, 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


Foot  to  fire  in  snowtime  we  trimmed  the  slender  shaft : 

Often  down  the  pit  spied  the  lean  wolf's  teeth 
Grin  against  his  will,  trapped  by  masterstrokes  of  craft ; 

Helpless  in  his  froth-wrath  as  green  logs  seethe ! 
Safe  the  tender  lambs  tugged  the  teats,  and  winter  sped 

Whirled  before  the  crocus,  the  year's  new  gold. 
Hung  the  hooky  beak  up  aloft  the  arrowhead 
Keddened  through  his  feathers  for  our  dear  fold. 
God !  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure, 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


VI 

Tales  we  drank  of  giants  at  war  with  Gods  above : 
Kocks  were  they  to  look  on,  and  earth  climbed  air  1 

Tales  of  search  for  simples,  and  those  who  sought  of  love 
Ease  because  the  creature  was  all  too  fair. 


PHOEBUS  NVITH   ADMETUS  119 

Pleasant  ran  our  thinking  that  while  our  work  was  good, 

Sure  as  fruits  for  sweat  would  the  praise  come  fast. 
He  that  wrestled  stoutest  and  tamed  the  billow-brood 
Danced  in  rings  with  girls,  like  a  sail-flapped  mast. 
God  !  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure, 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


VII 

Lo,  the  herb  of  healing,  when  once  the  herb  is  known. 
Shines  in  shady  woods  bright  as  new-sprung  flame. 
Ere  the  string  was  tightened  we  heard  the  mellow  tone, 

After  he  had  taught  how  the  sweet  sounds  came. 
Stretched  about  his  feet,  labour  done,  't  was  as  you  see 

Red  pomegranates  tumble  and  burst  hard  rind. 
So  began  contention  to  give  delight  and  be 
Excellent  in  things  aimed  to  make  life  kind. 
God  !  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure, 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


VIII 

You  with  shelly  horns,  rams!  and,  promontory  goats, 
You  whose  browsing  beards  dip  in  coldest  dew  ! 

Bulls,  that  walk  the  pastures  in  kingly-flasliing  coats  ! 
Laurel,  ivy,  vine,  wreathed  for  feasts  not  few ! 


120  PHOEBUS  WITH  ADMETUS 

You  that  build  the  shade-roof,  aud  you  that  court  the  rays, 

You  that  leap  besprinkling  the  rock  stream-rent : 
He  has  been  our  fellow,  the  morning  of  our  days ; 
Us  he  chose  for  housemates,  and  this  way  went. 
God!  of  whom  music 
And  song  and  blood  are  pure, 
The  day  is  never  darkened 
That  had  thee  here  obscure. 


MELAMPUS 


With  love  exceeding  a  simple  love  of  the  things 

That  glide  in  grasses  and  rubble  of  woody  wreck ; 
Or  change  their  perch  on  a  beat  of  quivering  wings 

From  branch  to  branch,  only  restful  to  pipe  and  peck ; 
Or,  bristled,  curl  at  a  touch  their  snouts  in  a  ball ; 

Or  cast  their  web  between  bramble  and  thorny  hook ; 
The  good  physician  Melampus,  loving  them  all, 

Among  them  walked,  as  a  scholar  who  reads  a  book. 


II 

For  him  the  woods  were  a  home  and  gave  him  the  key 

Of  knowledge,  thirst  for  their  treasures   in  herbs  and 
flowers. 
The  secrets  held  by  the  creatures  nearer  than  we 

To  earth  he  sought,  and  the  link  of  their  life  with  ours : 
And  where  alike  we  are,  unlike  where,  and  the  veined 

Division,  veined  parallel,  of  a  blood  that  flows 
In  them,  in  us,  from  the  source  by  man  unattained 

Save  marks  he  well  what  the  mvstical  woods  disclose. 


122  MELA]\IPUS 


III 

And  this  he  deemed  might  be  boon  of  love  to  a  breast 

Embracing  tenderly  each  little  motive  shape, 
The  prone,  the  flitting,  who  seek  their  food  whither  best 

Their  wits  direct,  whither  best  from  their  foes  escape : 
For  closer  drawn  to  our  mother's  natural  milk, 

As  babes  they  learn  where  her  motherly  help  is  great : 
They  know  the  juice  for  the  honey,  juice  for  the  silk, 

And  need  they  medical  antidotes  find  them  straight. 

Of  earth  and  sun  they  are  wise,  they  nourish  their  broods, 

Weave,  build,  hive,  burrow  and  battle,  take  joy  and  pain 
Like  swimmers  varying  billows  :  never  in  woods 

Runs  white  insanity  fleeing  itself :  all  sane 
The  woods  revolve  :  as  the  tree  its  shadowing  limns 

To  some  resemblance  in  motion,  the  rooted  life 
Restrains  disorder :  you  hear  the  primitive  hymns 

Of  earth  in  woods  issue  wild  of  the  web  of  strife. 


Now  sleeping  once  on  j  day  of  marvellous  fire, 

A  brood  of  snakes  he  had  cherished  in  grave  regret 
That  death  his  people  had  dealt  their  dam  and  their  sire, 

Through  savage  dread  of  them,  crept  to  his  neck,  and  set 
Their  tongues  to  lick  him  :  tlie  swift  affectionate  tongue 

Of  each  ran  licking  the  slumberer  :  then  his  ears 
A  forked  red  tongue  tickled  shrewdly :  sudden  upsprung, 

He  heard  a  voice  piping  :  Ay,  for  he  has  no  fears  I 


MELAMPUS  123 


VI 

A  bird  said  that,  iu  the  notes  of  birds,  and  the  speech 

Of  men,  it  seemed:  and  another  renewed  :  He  moves 
To  learn  and  not  to  pursue,  he  gathers  to  teach ; 

He  feeds  his  young  as  do  we,  and  as  we  love  loves. 
No  fears  have  I  of  a  man  who  goes  with  his  head 

To  earth,  chance  looking  aloft  at  us,  kind  of  hand : 
I  feel  to  him  as  to  earth  of  whom  we  are  fed ; 

I  pipe  him  much  for  his  good  could  he  understand. 


VII 

Melampus  touched  at  his  ears,  laid  finger  on  wrist : 

He  was  not  dreaming,  he  sensibly  felt  and  heard. 
Above,  through  leaves,  where  the  tree-twigs  thick  intertwist. 

He  spied  the  birds  and  the  bill  of  the  speaking  bird. 
His  cushion  mosses  in  shades  of  various  green, 

The  lumped,  the  antlered,  he  pressed,  while  the  sunny 
snake 
Slipped  under:  draughts  he  had  drunk  of  clear  Hippocrene, 

It  seemed,  and  sat  with  a  gift  of  the  Gods  awake. 


VIII 

Divinely  thrilled  was  the  man,  exultingly  full. 

As  quick  well-waters  that  come  of  the  heart  of  earth, 

Ere  yet  they  dart  in  a  brook  are  one  bubble-pool 

To  light  and  sound,  wedding  both  at  the  leap  of  birth. 


124  MELAIVrPUS 

The  soul  of  light  vivid  shone,  a  stream  within  stream  ; 

The  soul  of  sound  from  a  musical  shell  ontflew ; 
Where  others  hear  but  a  hum  and  see  but  a  beam, 

The  tongue  and  eye  of  the  fountain  of  life  he  knew. 


IX 


He  knew  the  Hours :  they  were  round  him,  laden  with  seed 

Of  hours  bestrewn  upon  vapour,  and  one  by  one 
They  winged  as  ripened  in  fruit  the  burden  decreed 

For  each  to  scatter ;  they  flushed  like  the  buds  in  sun, 
Bequeathing  seed  to  successive  similar  rings, 

Their  sisters,  bearers  to  men  of  what  men  have  earned : 
He    knew  them,  talked  with   the    yet  unreddened ;    the 
stings, 

The   sweets,    they   warmed    at    their  bosoms    divined, 
discerned. 


Not  unsolicited,  sought  by  diligent  feet. 

By  riddling  fingers  expanded,  oft  watched  in  growth 
With  brooding  deep  as  the  noon-ray's  quickening  wheat. 

Ere  toucli'd,  the  pendulous  flower  of  the  plants  of  sloth, 
The  plants  of  rigidness,  answered  question  and  squeeze, 

Revealing  wherefore  it  bloomed  uninviting,  bent," 
Yet  making  harmony  breathe  of  life  and  disease, 

The  deeper  chord  of  a  wonderful  instrument. 


MELAIVIPITS  125 


XI 

So  passed  be  luminous-eyed  for  earth  and  the  fates 

We  arm  to  bruise  or  caress  us :  his  ears  were  charged 
With  tones  of  love  in  a  whirl  of  voluble  hates, 

With  music  wrought  of  distraction  his  heart  enlarged. 
Celestial-shining,  though  mortal,  singer,  though  mute, 

He  drew  the  Master  of  harmonies,  voiced  or  stilled, 
To  seek  him  ;  heard  at  the  silent  medicine-root 

A  song,  beheld  in  fulfilment  the  unfulfilled. 


XII 

Him  Phoebus,  lending  to  darkness  colour  and  form 

Of  light's  excess,  many  lessons  and  counsels  gave  ; 
Showed  Wisdom  lord  of  the  human  intricate  swarm, 

And  whence  proplietic  it  looks  on  the  hives  that  rave. 
And  how  acquired,  of  the  zeal  of  love  to  acquire, 

And  where  it  stands,  in  the  centre  of  life  a  sphere ; 
And  Measure,  mood  of  the  lyre,  the  rapturous  lyre, 

He  said  was  Wisdom,  and  struck  him  the  notes  to  hear. 


XIII 


Sweet,  sweet:  't  was  glory  of  vision,  honey,  the  breeze 
In  heat,  the  run  of  the  river  on  root  and  stone, 

All  senses  joined,  as  the  sister  Pierides 

Are  one,  uplifting  their  chorus,  the  Nine,  his  own. 


126  MELAlVrPUS 

tn  stately  order,  evolved  of  sound  into  sight, 
From  sight  to  sound  intershifting,  the  man  descried 

The  growths  of  earth,  his  adored,  like  day  out  of  night, 
Ascend  in  song,  seeing  nature  and  song  allied. 


XIV 

And  there  vitality,  there,  there  solely  in  song, 

Resides,  where  earth  and  her  uses  to  men,  their  needs, 
Their  forceful  cravings,  the  theme  are :  there  is  it  strong. 

The  Master  said :  and  the  studious  eye  that  reads, 
(Yea,  even  as  earth  to  the  crown  of  Gods  on  the  mount), 

In  links  divine  with  the  lyrical  tongue  is  bound. 
Pursue  thy  craft :  it  is  music  drawn  of  a  fount 

To  spring  perennial ;  well-spring  is  common  ground. 


XV 

Melampus  dwelt  among  men  :  physician  and  sage, 

He   served   them,  loving  them,  healing   them ;   sick   or 
maimed 
Or  them  that  frenzied  in  some  delirious  rage 

Outran  the  measure,  his  juice  of  tlie  woods  reclaimed. 
He  played  on  men,  as  his  master,  Phoebus,  on  strings 

Melodious :  as  the  God  did  he  drive  and  check. 
Through  love  exceeding  a  simple  love  of  the  things 

That  glide  in  grasses  and  rubble  of  woody  wreck. 


LOVE  IN  THE  VALLEY 

UxDER  yonder  beech-tree  single  on  the  green-sward, 

Couched  with  her  arms  behind  her  golden  head, 
Knees  and  tresses  folded  to  slip  and  ripple  idly, 

Lies  my  young  love  sleeping  in  the  shade. 
Had  I  the  heart  to  slide  an  arm  beneath  her, 

Press  her  parting  lips  as  her  waist  I  gather  slow, 
Waking  in  amazement  she  could  not  but  embrace  me : 

Then  would  she  hold  me  and  never  let  me  go  ? 


Shy  as  the  squirrel  and  wayward  as  the  swallow. 

Swift  as  the  swallow  along  the  river's  light 
Circleting  the  surface  to  meet  his  mirrored  winglets, 

Fleeter  she  seems  in  her  stay  than  in  her  flight. 
Shy  as  the  squirrel  that  leaps  among  the  pine-tops, 

Wayward  as  the  swallow  overhead  at  set  of  siai, 
She  whom  I  love  is  hard  to  catch  and  conquer, 

Hard,  but  0  the  glory  of  the  winning  were  she  won! 

When  her  mother  tends  her  before  the  laughing  mirror. 
Tying  up  her  laces,  looping  up  her  hair, 

Often  she  thinks,  were  this  wild  thing  wedded. 
More  love  should  I  have,  and  much  less  care. 


< 
I 


128  LOVE  IN  THE  VALLEY 

When  her  mother  tends  her  before  the  lighted  mirror, 
Loosening  her  laces,  combing  down  her  curls, 

Often  she  thinks,  were  this  wild  thing  wedded, 
I  should  miss  but  one  for  many  boys  and  girls. 


Heartless  she  is  as  the  shadow  in  the  meadows 

Flying  to  the  hills  on  a  blue  and  breezy  noon. 
No,  she  is  athirst  and  drinking  up  her  wonder : 

Earth  to  her  is  young  as  the  slip  of  the  new  moon. 
Deals  she  an  unkindness,  't  is  but  her  rapid  measure. 

Even  as  in  a  dance ;  and  her  smile  can  heal  no  less : 
Like  the  swinging  May-cloud  that  pelts  the  flowers  with 
hailstones 

Off  a  sunny  border,  she  was  made  to  bruise  and  bless. 


Lovely  are  the  curves  of  the  white  owl  sweeping 

Wavy  in  the  dusk  lit  by  one  large  star. 
Lone  on  the  fir-branch,  his  rattle-note  unvaried. 

Brooding  o'er  the  gloom,  spins  the  brown  evejar. 
Darker  grows  the  valley,  more  and  more  forgetting : 

So  were  it  with  me  if  forgetting  could  be  willed. 
Tell  the  grassy  hollow  that  holds  the  bubbling  well-spring, 

Tell  it  to  forget  the  source  that  keeps  it  filled. 


Stepping  down  the  hill  with  her  fair  companions, 
Arm  in  arm,  all  against  the  raying  West, 

Boldly  she  sings,  to  the  merry  tune  she  marches. 
Brave  is  her  shape,  and  sweeter  unpossessed. 


LOVE   m   THE   VALLEY  129 

Sweeter,  for  she  is  what  my  heart  first  awaking 
Whispered  the  world  was  ;  morning  light  is  she. 

Love  that  so  desires  would  fain  keep  her  changeless ; 
Tain  would  fling  the  net,  and  fain  have  her  free. 


Happy  happy  time,  when  the  white  star  hovers 

Low  over  dim  fields  fresh  with  bloomy  dew, 
Near  the  face  of  dawn,  that  draws  athwart  the  darkness, 

Threading  it  with  colour,  like  yewberries  the  yew. 
Thicker  crowd  the  shades  as  the  grave  East  deepens 

Glowing,  and  with  crimson  a  long  cloud  swells. 
Maiden  still  the  morn  is ;  and  strange  she  is,  and  secret ; 

Strange  her  eyes ;  her  cheeks  are  cold  as  cold  sea-shells. 


Sunrays,  leaning  on  our  southern  hills  and  lighting 

Wild  cloud-mountains  that  drag  the  hills  along, 
Oft  ends  the  day  of  your  shifting  brilliant  laughter 

Chill  as  a  dull  face  frowning  on  a  song. 
Ay,  but  shows  the  South-West  a  ripple-feathered  bosom 

Blown  to  silver  while  the  clouds  are  shaken  and  ascend 
Scaling  the  raid-heavens  as  they  stream,   there   comes  a 
sunset 

Rich,  deep  like  love  in  beauty  without  end. 


When  at  dawn  she  sighs,  and  like  an  infant  to  the  window 
Turns  grave  eyes  craving  light,  released  from  dreams, 

Beautiful  she  looks,  like  a  white  water-lily 
Bursting  out  of  bud  in  havens  of  the  streams. 


130  LOVE   IN    THE   VALLEY 

When  from  bed  she  rises  clothed  from  neck  to  ankle 
In  her  long  nightgown  sweet  as  boughs  of  May, 

Beautiful  she  looks,  like  a  tall  garden  lily 
Pure  from  the  night,  and  splendid  for  the  day. 


Mother  of  the  dews,  dark  eye-lashed  twilight, 

Low-lidded  twilight,  o'er  the  valley's  brira, 
Bounding  on  thy  breast  sings  the  dew-delighted  skylark, 

Clear  as  though  the  dewdrops  had  their  voice  in  him. 
Hidden  where  the  rose-flush  drinks  the  rayless  planet, 

Fountain-full  he  pours  the  spraying  fountain-showers. 
Let  me  hear  her  laughter,  I  would  have  her  ever 

Cool  as  dew  in  twilight,  the  lark  above  the  flowers. 

All  the  girls  are  out  with  their  baskets  for  the  primrose ; 

Up  lanes,  woods  through,  they  troop  in  joyful  bands. 
My  sweet  leads  :  she  knows  not  why,  but  now  she  loiters, 

Eyes  the  bent  anemones,  and  hangs  her  hands. 
Such  a  look  will  tell  that  the  violets  are  peeping, 

Coming  the  rose  :  and  unaware  a  cry 
Springs  in  her  bosom  for  odours  and  for  colour, 

Covert  and  the  nightingale  ;  she  knows  not  why. 


Kerchiefed  head  and  chin  she  darts  between  her  tulips, 
Streaming  like  a  willow  j^rey  in  arrowy  rain  : 

Some  bend  beaten  cheek  to  gravel,  and  their  angel 
She  will  be ;  she  lifts  them,  and  on  she  speeds  again. 


LOVE  IN  THE  VALLEY  131 

Black  the  driving  raincloud  breasts  the  iron  gateway : 
She  is  forth  to  cheer  a  neighbour  lacking  mirth. 

So  when  sky  and  grass  met  rolling  dumb  for  thunder 
Saw  I  once  a  white  dove,  sole  light  of  earth. 


Prim  little  scholars  are  the  flowers  of  her  garden, 

Trained  to  stand  in  rows,  and  asking  if  they  please. 
I  might  love  them  well  but  for  loving  more  the  wild  ones 

0  my  wild  ones !  they  tell  me  more  than  these. 
You,  my  wild  one,  you  tell  of  honied  field-rose, 

Violet,  blushing  eglantine  in  life ;   and  even  as  they, 
They  by  the  wayside  are  earnest  of  your  goodness, 

You  are  of  life's,  on  the  banks  that  line  the  way. 


Peering  at  her  chamber  the  white  crowns  the  red  rose, 

Jasmine  winds  the  porch  with  stars  two  and  three. 
Parted  is  the  window ;  she  sleeps  ;  the  starry  jasmine 

Breathes  a  falling  breath  that  carries  thoughts  of  me. 
Sweeter  unpossessed,  have  I  said  of  her  my  sweetest  ? 

Not  while   she   sleeps  :    while   she   sleeps  the  jasmine 
breathes, 
Luring  her  to  love ;  she  sleeps ;  the  starry  jasmine 

Bears  me  to  her  pillow  under  white  rose-wreaths. 


bellow  with  birdfoot-trefoil  are  the  grass-glades  ; 

Yellow  with  cinque  foil  of  the  dew-grey  leaf ; 
Yellow  with  stonecrop  ;  the  moss-mounds  are  yellow  ; 

Blue-necked  the  wheat  sways,  yellowing  to  the  sheaf. 


182  LOVE  IN  THE   VALLEY 

Green-yellow  bursts  from  tlie  copse  the  laughing  yaffle j 
Sharp  as  a  sickle  is  the  edge  of  shade  and  shine : 

Earth  in  her  heart  laughs  looking  at  the  heavens, 
Thinking  of  the  harvest :  I  look  and  think  of  mine. 


This  I  may  know :  her  dressing  and  undressing 

Such  a  change  of  light  shows  as  when  the  skies  in  sport 
Shift  from  cloud  to  moonlight ;  or  edging  over  thunder 

Slips  a  ray  of  sun ;  or  sweeping  into  port 
White  sails  furl ;  or  on  the  ocean  borders 

White  sails  lean  along  the  waves  leaping  green. 
Visions  of  her  shower  before  me,  but  from  eyesight 

Guarded  she  would  be  like  the  sun  were  she  seen. 

Front  door  and  back  of  the  mossed  old  farmhouse 

Open  with  the  morn,  and  in  a  breezy  link 
Freshly  sparkles  garden  to  stripe-shadowed  orchard, 

Green  across  a  rill  where  on  sand  the  minnows  wink. 
Busy  in  the  grass  the  early  sun  of  summer 

Swarms,  and  the  blackbird's  mellow  fluting  notes 
Call  my  darling  up  with  round  and  roguish  challenge : 

Quaintest,  richest  carol  of  all  the  singing  throats  ! 


Cool  was  the  woodside;  cool  as  her  white  dairy 

Keeping  sweet  the  cream-pan ;  and  there  the  boys  from 
school, 

Cricketing  below,  rushed  brown  and  red  with  sunshine ; 
0  the  dark  translucence  of  the  deep-eyed  cool ! 


LOVE  IN   THE   VALLEY  133 

Spying  from  the  farm,  herself  she  fetched  a  pitcher 
Full  of  milk,  and  tilted  for  each  in  turn  the  beak. 

Then  a  little  fellow,  mouth  up  and  on  tiptoe, 

Said,  *  I  will  kiss  you ' :    she  laughed  and  leaned  her 
cheek. 


Doves  of  the  fir-wood  walling  high  our  red  roof 

Through  the  long  noon  coo,  crooning  through  the  coo. 
Loose  droop  the  leaves,  and  down  the  sleepy  roadway 

Sometimes  pipes  a  chaffinch  ;  loose  droops  the  blue. 
Cows  flap  a  slow  tail  knee-deep  in  the  river, 

Breathless,  given  up  to  sun  and  gnat  and  fly. 
Nowhere  is  she  seen  ;  and  if  I  see  her  nowhere. 

Lightning  may  come,  straight  rains  and  tiger  sky. 


O  the  golden  sheaf,  the  rustling  treasure-armful  I 

O  the  nutbrown  tresses  nodding  interlaced  ! 
0  the  treasure-tresses  one  another  over 

Nodding  !   0  the  girdle  slack  about  the  waist ! 
Slain  are  the  poppies  that  shot  their  random  scarlet 

Quick  amid  the  wheatears  :  wound  about  the  waist, 
Gathered,  see  these  brides  of  Earth  one  blush  of  ripeness  J 

O  the  nutbrown  tresses  nodding  interlaced  ! 


Large  and  smoky  red  the  sun's  cold  disk  drops. 
Clipped  by  naked  hills,  on  violet  shaded  snow: 

Eastward  large  and  still  lights  up  a  bower  of  moonrise, 
Whence  at  her  leisure  steps  the  moon  aglow. 


134  LOVE  IN  THE   VALLEY 

Nightlong  on  black  print-branches  our  beech-tree 
Gazes  in  this  whiteness :  nightlong  could  I. 

Here  may  life  on  death  or  death  on  life  be  painted. 
Let  me  clasp  her  soul  to  know  she  cannot  die ! 


Gossips  count  her  faults ;  they  scour  a  narrow  chamber 

Where  there  is  no  window,  read  not  heaven  or  her. 
'  When  she  was  a  tiny/  one  aged  woman  quavers, 

Plucks  at  my  heart  and  leads  me  by  the  ear. 
Faults  she  had  once  as  she  learnt  to  run  and  tumbled: 

Faults  of  feature  some  see,  beauty  not  complete. 
Yet,  good  gossips,  beauty  that  makes  holy 

Earth  and  air,  may  have  faults  from  head  to  feet. 


Hither  she  comes  ;  she  comes  to  me  ;  she  lingers, 

Deepens  her  brown  eyebrows,  while  in  new  surprise 
High  rise  the  lashes  in  wonder  of  a  stranger ; 

Yet  am  I  the  light  and  living  of  her  eyes. 
Something  friends  have  told  her  fills  her  heart  to  brimming, 

Nets  her  in  her  blushes,  and  wounds  her,  and  tames.  — 
Sure  of  her  haven,  0  like  a  dove  alighting. 

Arms  up,  she  dropped :  our  souls  were  in  our  names. 


Soon  will  she  lie  like  a  white  frost  sunrise. 

Yellow  oats  and  brown  wheat,  barley  pale  as  rye, 
Long  since  your  sheaves  have  yielded  to  the  thresher, 

Felt  the  girdle  loosened,  seen  the  tresses  fly. 


LOVE  LN   THE  VALLEY  135 

Soon  will  she  lie  like  a  blood-red  sunset. 

Swift  with  the  to-morrow,  green-winged  Spring ! 
Sing  from  the  South- West,  bring  her  back  the  truants, 

Nightingale  and  swallow,  song  and  dipping  wing. 


Soft  new  beech-leaves,  up  to  beamy  April 

Spreading  bough  on  bough  a  primrose  mountain,  you 
Lucid  in  the  moon,  raise  lilies  to  the  skyfields. 

Youngest  green  transfused  in  silver  shining  through : 
Fairer  than  the  lily,  than  the  wild  white  cherry : 

Fair  as  in  image  my  seraph  love  appears 
Borne  to  me  by  dreams  when  dawn  is  at  my  eyelids: 

Fair  as  in  the  flesh  she  swims  to  me  on  tears. 


Could  I  find  a  place  to  be  alone  with  heaven, 

I  would  speak  my  heart  out :  heaven  is  my  need. 
Every  woodland  tree  is  flushing  like  the  dogwood. 

Flashing  like  the  whitebeam,  swaying  like  the  reed. 
Flushing  like  the  dogwood  crimson  in  October ; 

Streaming  like  the  flag-reed  South-West  blown  ; 
Flashing  as  in  gusts  the  sudden-lighted  whitebeam : 

All  seem  to  know  what  is  for  heaven  alone. 


THE  THREE   SINGERS  TO  YOUNG  BLOOD 

Carols  nature,  counsel  men. 
Different  notes  as  rook  from  wren, 
Hear  we  when  our  steps  begin, 
And  the  choice  is  cast  within, 
Where  a  robber  raven's  tale 
Urges  passion's  nightingale. 

Hark  to  the  three.     Chimed  they  in  one. 
Life  were  music  of  the  sun. 
Liquid  first,  and  then  the  caw. 
Then  the  cry  that  knows  not  law. 


THE  THREE  SINGERS  TO   YOUNG   BLOOD  137 


As  the  birds  do,  so  do  we, 
Bill  our  mate,  and  choose  our  tree. 
Swift  to  building  work  addressed, 
Any  straw  will  help  a  nest. 
Mates  are  warm,  and  this  is  truth, 
Glad  the  young  that  come  of  youth. 
They  have  bloom  i'  the  blood  and  sap 
Chilling  at  no  thunder-clap. 
Man  and  woman  on  the  thorn, 
Trust  not  Earth,  and  have  her  scorn. 
They  who  in  her  lead  confide, 
Wither  me  if  they  spread  not  wide ! 
Look  for  aid  to  little  things, 
You  will  get  them  quick  as  wings, 
Thick  as  feathers ;  would  you  feed. 
Take  the  leap  that  springs  the  need. 


138  THE  THREE   SINGERS   TO   YOUNG   BLOOD 


II 

Contemplate  the  rutted  road : 
Life  is  both  a  lure  and  goad. 
Each  to  hold  in  measure  just, 
Trample  appetite  to  dust. 
Mark  the  fool  and  wanton  spin: 
Keep  to  harness  as  a  skin. 
Ere  you  follow  nature's  lead, 
Of  her  powers  in  you  have  heed ; 
Else  a  shiverer  you  will  find 
You  have  challenged  humankind. 
Mates  are  chosen  marketwise : 
Coolest  bargainer  best  buys. 
Leap  not,  nor  let  leap  the  heart: 
Trot  your  track,  and  drag  your  cart. 
So  your  end  may  be  in  wool, 
Honoured,  and  with  manger  full. 


THE  THKEE  SINGERS   TO   YOUNG   BLOOD  139 


III 

O  the  rosy  light !  it  fleets, 
Dearer  dying  than  all  sweets. 
That  is  life  :  it  waves  and  goes  ; 
Solely  in  that  cherished  Rose 
Palpitates,  or  else  't  is  death. 
Call  it  love  with  all  thy  breath. 
Love !  it  lingers  :  Love  !  it  nearg : 
Love !  0  Love !  the  Rose  appears, 
Blushful,  magic,  reddening  air. 
Now  the  choice  is  on  thee :  dare  ! 
Mortal  seems  the  touch,  but  makes 
Immortal  the  hand  that  takes. 
Feel  what  sea  within  thee  shames 
Of  its  force  all  other  claims, 
Drowns  them.     Clasp  !  the  world  will  be 
Heavenly  Rose  to  swelling  sea. 


\ 


/ 


THE  OKCHARD  AND  THE  HEATH 

I  CHANCED  upon  an  early  walk  to  spy 

A  troop  of  children  through  an  orchard  gate  : 

The  boughs  hung  low,  the  grass  was  high ; 

They  had  but  to  lift  hands  or  wait 
For  fruits  to  fill  them  ;  fruits  were  all  their  sky. 

They  shouted,  running  on  from  tree  to  tree, 

And  played  the  game  the  wind  plays,  on  and  round. 

'T  was  visible  invisible  glee 

Pursuing  ;  and  a  fountain's  sound 
Of  laughter  spouted,  pattering  fresh  on  me. 

I  could  have  watched  them  till  the  daylight  fle^, 
Their  pretty  bower  made  such  a  light  of  day. 
A  small  one  tumbling  sang,  '  Oh  !  head  I ' 
The  rest  to  comfort  her  straightway 
Seized  on  a  branch  and  thumped  down  apples  red 

The  tiny  creature  flashing  through  green  grasi/, 
And  laughing  with  her  feet  and  eyes  among 

Fresh  apples,  while  a  little  lass 

Over  as  o'er  breeze-ripples  hung  : 
That  sight  I  saw,  and  passed  as  aliens  pass. 


THE  ORCHARD  AND  THE  HEATH       141 

My  footpath  left  the  pleasant  farms  and  lanes, 

Soft  cottage-smoke,  straight  cocks  a-crow,  gay  flowers } 

Beyond  the  wheel-ruts  of  the  wains, 

Across  a  heath  I  walked  for  hours, 
And  met  its  rival  tenants,  rays  and  rains. 


Still  in  my  view  mile-distant  firs  appeared, 
When,  under  a  patched  channel-bank  enriched 

With  foxglove  whose  late  bells  drooped  seared, 

Behold,  a  family  had  pitched 
Their  camp,  and  labouring  the  low  tent  upreared. 

Here,  too,  were  many  children,  quick  to  scan 

A  new  thing  coming  ;  swarthy  cheeks,  white  teeth : 

In  many-coloured  rags  they  ran. 

Like  iron  runlets  of  the  heath. 
Dispersed  lay  broth-pot,  sticks,  and  drinking-can. 

Three  girls,  with  shoulders  like  a  boat  at  sea 
Tipped  sideways  by  the  wave  (their  clothing  slid 

From  either  ridge  unequally), 

Lean,  swift  and  voluble,  bestrid 
A  starting-point,  unfrocked  to  the  bent  knee. 

They  raced  ;  their  brothers  yelled  them  on,  and  broke 
In  act  to  follow,  but  as  one  they  snuffed 

Wood-fumes,  and  by  the  fire  that  spoke 

Of  provender,  its  pale  flame  puffed. 
And  rolled  athwart  dwarf  furzes  grey-blue  smoke. 


I 


142  THE  ORCHARD   AI?D  THE  HEATH 

Soon  on  the  dark  edge  of  a  ruddier  gleam, 
The  mother-pot  perusing,  all,  stretched  flat, 

Paused  for  its  bubbling-up  supreme  : 

A  dog  upright  in  circle  sat, 
And  oft  his  nose  went  with  the  flying  steam. 

I  turned  and  looked  on  heaven  awhile,  where  now 
The  moor-faced  sunset  broadeu'd  with  red  light ; 
Threw  high  aloft  a  golden  bough. 
And  seemed  the  desert  of  the  night 
Far  down  with  mellow  orchards  to  endow. 


^(J*v 


EARTH  AND  MaN 


On  her  great  venture,  Man, 
Earth  gazes  while  her  fingers  dint  the  breast 
Which  is  his  well  of  strength,  his  home  of  rest, 
And  fair  to  scan. 


II 

More  aid  than  that  embrace, 
That  nourishment,  she  cannot  give :  his  heart 
Involves  his  fate  ;  and  she  who  urged  the  start 
Abides  the  race. 

m 

For  he  is  in  the  lists 

Contentious  with  the  elements,  whose  dower 
First  sprang  him  ;  for  swift  vultures  to  devour 
If  he  desists. 

rv 

His  breath  of  instant  thirst 

Is  warning  of  a  creature  matched  with  strife, 

To  meet  it  as  a  bride,  or  let  fall  life 

On  life's  accursed. 


/ 


144  EAETH  AKD  MAN 

V 

No  longer  forth  he  bounds 

The  lusty  animal,  afield  to  roam, 

But  peering  in  Earth's  entrails,  where  the  gnome 

Strange  themes  propounds. 

VI 

By  hunger  sharply  sped 
To  grasp  at  weapons  ere  he  learns  their  use, 
In  each  new  ring  he  bears  a  giant's  thews, 
An  infant's  head. 

VII 

And  ever  that  old  task 
Of  reading  what  he  is  and  whence  he  came, 
Whither  to  go,  finds  wilder  letters  flame 
Across  her  mask. 

VIII 

he  hears  his  wailful  prayer, 

V^hen  now  to  the  Invisible  he  raves 
To  rend  liim  from  her,  now  his  mother  craves 
Her  calm,  her  care. 

iz 

The  thing  that  shudders  most 
Within  him  is  the  burden  of  his  cry. 
Seen  of  his  droad,  she  is  to  his  blank  eye 
J'  e  eyeless  Ghost. 


rr; 
t 


EARTH  AND   MAN  145 

X 

Or  sometimes  she  will  seem 
Heavenly,  but  her  blush,  soon  wearing  white. 
Veils  like  a  gorsebush  in  a  web  of  blight, 
With  gold-buds  dim. 

XI 

Once  worshipped  Prime  of  Powers, 

She  still  was  the  Implacable :  as  a  beast, 

She  struck  him  down  and  dragged  him  from  tiio  least 

She  crowned  with  flowers. 

XII 

Her  pomp  of  glorious  hues, 
Her  revelries  of  ripeness,  her  kind  smile. 
Her  songs,  her  peeping  faces,  lure  awhile 
With  symbol-clues. 

XIII 

The  mystery  she  holds 
For  him,  inveterately  he  strains  to  see, 
And  sight  of  his  obtuseness  is  the  key 
Among  those  folds. 

XIV 

Ae  may  entreat,  aspire. 

He  may  despair,  and  she  has  never  heed. 

She  drinking  his  warm  sweat  will  soothe  hvj.  need, 

Not  his  desire. 


/ 


146  EARTH  AND  MAN 

XV 

She  prompts  him  to  rejoice, 
Yet  scares  him  on  the  threshold  with  the  shroud. 
He  deems  her  cherishing  of  her  best-endowed 
A  wanton's  choice. 

XVI 

Albeit  thereof  he  has  found 
Firm  roadway  between  lustfulness  and  pain ; 
Has  half  transferred  the  battle  to  his  brain, 
From  bloody  ground ; 

XVII 

He  will  not  read  her  good, 
Or  wise,  but  with  the  passion  Self  obscures ; 
Through  that  old  devil  of  the  thousand  lures, 
Through  that  dense  hood  : 

XVIII 

..Through  terror,  through  distrust; 

■  The  greed  to  touch,  to  view,  to  have,  to  live : 
iThrough  all  that  makes  of  him  a  sensitive 
HA.bhorring  dust. 

XIX 

The  thiJ  his  wormy  home! 

Within  le  the  wind-whipped,  anywhither  wave 

Seen  ofy  tumbled  on  a  shingle-grave 

^  e  waste  in  foam. 


EAKTH   AND  MAN  14' 

XX 

Therefore  the  wretch  inclines 
Afresh  to  the  Invisible,  who,  he  saith, 
Can  raise  him  high  :  with  vows  of  living  faith 
For  little  signs. 

XXI 

Some  signs  he  must  demand. 

Some  proofs  of  slaughtered  nature ;  some  i  /•i?dC'.  '^ew, 

To  satisfy  the  senses  it  is  true, 

And  in  his  hand, 

XXII 

This  miracle  which  saves 
Himself,  himself  doth  from  extinctioy^  Ciutch, 
By  virtue  of  his  worth,  contrasting  much 
With  brutes  and  knaves. 

XXIII 

From  dust,  of  him  abhorred. 

He  would  be  snatched  by  Grace  discovering  wortL 

*  Sever  me  from  the  hollowness  of  earth  1 

Me  take,  dear  Lord ! '  ■ 

XXTV 

She  hears  him.     Him  she  owes  ■' 

For  half  her  loveliness  a  love  well  won 
By  work  that  lights  the  shapeless  and  tho  dil."^®^' 
Their  common  foes. 


\ 


1/ 


148  EAKTH  A^H)  MAN 


XXV 


He  builds  the  soaring  spires, 
That  sing  his  soul  in  stone  :  of  her  he  draws, 
Though  blind  to  her,  by  spelling  at  her  laws, 
Her  purest  fires. 


XXVI 


Through  him  hath  she  exchanged, 
For  the  gold  harvest-robes,  the  mural  crown, 
Her  haggard  quarry-features  and  thick  frown 
Where  monsters  ranged. 


XXVII 


And  order,  high  discourse, 
And  decency,  than  which  is  life  less  dear, 
She  has  of  him  :  the  lyre  of  language  clear, 
Love's  tongue  and  source. 

XXVIII 

Ti\he  hears  him,  and  can  hear 
B€7ith  glory  in  his  gains  by  work  achieved : 
*  I7ith  grief  for  grief  that  is  the  unperceived 
Wa  her  so  near. 

XXIX 

When  aloft  for  aid 

Wheiloring  storms,  her  essence  is  the  spur. 

jV  iis  cry  to  heaven  is  a  cry  to  her 

l^dLe  would  evade. 


EAKTH   AKD  MAN 


149 


XXX 

Not  elsewhere  can  he  tend. 

Those  are  her  rules  which  bid  him  wash  foul  sins ; 
Those  her  revulsions  from  the  skull  that  grins 
To  ape  his  end. 

XXXI 

And  her  desires  are  those 
For  happiness,  for  lastingness,  for  light. 
'T  is  she  who  kindles  in  his  haunting  night 
The  hoped  dawn-rose. 

XXXII 

Fair  fountains  of  the  dark 
Daily  she  waves  hira,  that  his  inner  dream 
May  clasp  amid  the  glooms  a  springing  beam, 
A  quivering  lark: 


XXXIII 

This  life  and  her  to  know 
For  Spirit :  with  awakenedness  of  glee 
To  feel  stern  joy  her  origin:  not  he 
The  child  of  woe. 

XXXIV 

But  that  the  senses  still 

Usurp  the  station  of  their  issue  mind,      • 

He  would  have  burst  the  chrysalis  of  th^  blina  l; 

As  yet  he  will ;  i  " 


150  EARTH   AND  MAN 

XXXV 

As  yet  he  will,  she  prays, 

Yet  will  when  his  distempered  devil  of  Self  ;- 

The  glutton  for  her  fruits,  the  wily  elf 

In  shifting  rays  j  — 

XXXVI 

That  captain  of  the  scorned ; 
The  coveter  of  life  in  soul  and  shell, 
The  fratricide,  the  thief,  the  infidel, 
The  hoofed  and  horned  j  — 

XXXVII 

He  singularly  doomed 

To  what  he  execrates  and  writhes  to  shun ;  — 
When  fire  has  passed  him  vapour  to  the  sun, 
And  sun  relumed, 

XXXVIII 

Tihen  shall  the  horrid  pall 

Be*)  lifted,  and  a  spirit  nigh  divine, 

'  lUve  in  thy  offspring  as  I  live  in  mine/ 

W:ill  hear  her  call. 

XXXIX 

Wherxe  looks  he  on  a  land 
Wheireon  his  labour  is  a  earven  page; 
A  od  forth  from  heritage  to  heritage 
K  ou'jht  writ  on  sand. 


EAE.TH   AND   MAN 


151 


XL 


His  fables  of  the  Above, 

And  his  gapped  readings  of  the  crown  and  sword, 

The  hell  detested  and  the  heaven  adored. 

The  hate,  the  love, 


XLI 


The  bright  wing,  the  black  hoof. 
He  shall  peruse,  from  Reason  not  disjoined, 
And  never  unfaith  clamouring  to  be  coined 
To  faith  by  proof. 

XLII 

She  her  just  Lord  may  view, 
Not  he,  her  creature,  till  his  soul  has  yearned 
With  all  her  gifts  to  reach  the  light  discerned 
Her  spirit  through. 


"t 


XLIII 


i>. 


Then  in  hiri  time  shall  run 
As  in  the  hour  that  to  young  sunlight  croTS ; 
And  — '  If  thou  hast  good  faith  it  can  vept>se,* 
She  telle  her  son. 


\  XLIV 

Meanwhile  on  him,  her  chief 
Expressior,  her  great  word  of  life,  looks 
Twi-mindel  of  him,  as  the  waxing  tree, 
Or  dated  leaf. 


jhe; 


..I.; 


A  BALLAD   OF  FAIR  LADIES  IN  REVOLT 


See  the  sweet  women,  friend,  that  lean  beneath 
The  ever-falling  fountain  of  green  leaves 
Round  the  white  bending  stem,  and  like  a  wreath 
Of  our  most  blushful  flower  shine  trembling  through. 
To  teach  philosophers  the  thirst  of  thieves : 
Is  one  for  me  ?  is  one  for  you  ? 


II 

•Fair  sirs,  we  give  you  welcome,  yield  you  place, 
And  you  shall  choose  among  us  which  you  will, 
Without  the  idle  pastime  of  the  chase. 
If  to  this  treaty  you  can  well  agree : 
To  wed  our  cause,  and  its  hi  '.   ^ask  fulfil. 
He  who 's  for  us,  for  him  are  W3l 


III 

—Most  granous  ladies,  nigh  when  light  has  birth, 
A  troop  ')f  maids,  brown  as  burnt  heather-bells, 
And  ricl:  with  life  as  moss-roots  breathe  of  earth 
In  the  fist  plucking  of  them,  past  us  flew 
To  laboir,  singing  rustic  ritornells : 

Had  they  a  cause  ?  are  they  of  you  ? 


i 


A  BALLAD   OF  FAIR   LADIES  LN  REVOLT  163 


IV 

■  Sirs,  they  are  as  unthinking  armies  are 
To  thoughtful  leaders,  and  our  cause  is  theirs. 
When  they  know  men  they  know  the  state  of  war; 
But  now  they  dream  like  sunlight  on  a  sea, 
And  deem  you  hold  the  half  of  happy  pairs. 
He  who 's  for  us,  for  him  are  we  I 


•  Ladies,  I  listened  to  a  ring  of  dames  j 
Judicial  in  the  robe  and  wig ;  secure 
As  venerated  portraits  in  their  frames ; 
And  they  denounced  some  insurrection  new 
Against  sound  laws  which  keep  you  good  and  pure. 
Are  you  of  them  ?  are  they  of  you  ? 


VI 

•  Sirs,  they  are  of  us,  as  their  dress  denotes, 
And  by  as  much  :  let  them  together  chime  : 
It  is  an  ancient  bell  within  their  throats, 
Pulled  by  an  aged  ringer ;  with  what  glee 
Befits  the  yellow  yesterdays  of  time. 

He  who 's  for  us,  for  him  are  we  I 


154         A  BALLAD  OF  FAIR  LADIES  IN  REVOLT 


VII 

—  Sweet  ladies,  you  with  beauty,  you  with  wit ; 
Dowered  of  all  favours  and  all  blessed  things 
Whereat  the  ruddy  torch  of  Love  is  lit ; 
Wherefore  this  vain  and  outworn  strife  renew, 
Which  stays  the  tide  no  more  than  eddy-rings  ? 
Who  is  for  love  must  be  for  you. 


VIII 

The  manners  of  the  market,  honest  sirs, 
'T  is  hard  to  quit  when  you  behold  the  wares. 
You  flatter  us,  or  perchance  our  milliners 
You  flatter ;  so  this  vain  and  outworn  She 
May  still  be  the  charmed  snake  to  your  soft  airs  I 
A  higher  lord  than  Love  claim  we. 


iz 

One  day,  dear  lady,  missing  the  broad  track, 
I  came  on  a  wood's  border,  by  a  mead. 
Where  golden  May  ran  up  to  moted  black : 
And  tliere  I  saw  Queen  Beauty  hold  review, 
With  Love  before  her  throne  in  act  to  plead. 
Take  him  for  me,  take  her  for  you. 


A  BALLAD   OF  FAIIi   LADIES  IN  REVOLT  165 


>  Ingenious  gentleman,  the  tale  is  known. 
Love  pleaded  sweetly  :  Beauty  would  not  melt: 
She  would  not  melt :  he  turned  in  wrath  :  her  throne 
The  shadow  of  his  back  froze  witheringlj'-, 
And  sobbing  at  his  feet  Queen  Beauty  knelt. 
0  not  such  slaves  of  Love  are  we  I 


XI 

•  Love,  lady,  like  the  star  above  that  lance 
Of  radiance  flung  by  sunset  on  ridged  cloud, 
Sad  as  the  last  line  of  a  brave  romance !  — 
Young  Love  hung  dim,  yet  quivering  round  him  threw 
Beams  of  fresh  fire  while  Beauty  waned  and  bowed. 
Scorn  Love,  and  dread  the  doom  for  you. 


XII 


■  Called  she  not  for  her  mirror,  sir  ?     Forth  ran 
Her  women :  I  am  lost,  she  cried,  when  lo, 
Love  in  the  form  of  an  admiring  man 
Once  more  in  adoration  bent  the  knee 
And  brought  the  faded  Pagan  to  full  blow  : 

For  which  her  throne  she  gave :  not  \  A' 


156  A  BAX,LAD   OF   FAIE,  LADIES  IN  REVOLT 


xni 

—  My  version,  madam,  runs  not  to  that  end. 
A  certain  madness  of  an  hour  half  past, 
Caught  her  like  fever  :  her  just  lord  no  friend 
She  fancied ;  aimed  beyond  beauty,  and  thence  grew 
The  prim  acerbity,  sweet  Love's  outcast. 

Great  heaven  ward  off  that  stroke  from  you ! 


XIV 

—  Your  prayer  to  heaven,  good  sir,  is  generous : 
How  generous  likewise  that  you  do  not  name 
Offended  nature  !     She  from  all  of  us 
Couched  idle  underneath  our  showering  tree, 
May  quite  withhold  her  most  destructive  flame ; 
And  then  what  woeful  women  we  I 


XV 

Quite,  could  not  be,  fair  lady ;  yet  your  youth 
May  run  to  drought  in  visionary  schemes : 
And  a  late  waking  to  perceive  the  truth, 
Wlien  day  falls  shrouding  her  supreme  adieu, 
Shows  darker  wastes  than  unaccomplished  dreams : 
And  that  may  be  in  store  for  you. 


A  BALLAD   OF   FAIR   LADLES   LN   REVOLT  157 


XVI 

0  sir,  the  truth,  the  truth !  is 't  in  the  skies, 
Or  in  the  grass,  or  in  this  heart  of  ours  ? 
But  0  the  truth,  the  truth !  the  many  eyes 
That  look  on  it !  the  diverse  things  they  see, 
According  to  their  thirst  for  fruit  or  flowers  I 
Pass  on :  it  is  the  truth  seek  we. 


XVII 


■  Lady,  there  is  a  truth  of  settled  laws 
That  down  the  past  burns  like  a  great  watch-fire. 
Let  youth  hail  changeful  mornings;  but  your  cause, 
Whetting  its  edge  to  cut  the  race  in  two, 
Is  felony  :  you  forfeit  the  bright  lyre, 

Much  honour  and  much  glory  you ! 


XVIII 

Sir,  was  it  glory,  was  it  honour,  pride, 
And  not  as  cat  and  serpent  and  poor  slave, 
"Wherewith  we  walked  in  union  by  your  side  ? 
Spare  to  false  womanliness  her  delicacy, 
Or  bid  true  manliness  give  ear,  we  crave: 
In  our  defence  thu.°  chained  are  we. 


158         A  BALLAD   OF   FAIR   LADIES   IN  REVOLT 


XIX 

—  Yours,  madam,  were  the  privileges  of  life 
Proper  to  man's  ideal ;  you  were  the  mark 
Of  action,  and  the  banner  in  the  strife : 
Yea,  of  your  very  weakness  once  you  drew 
The  strength  that  sounds  the  wells,  outflies  the  lark: 
Wrapped  in  a  robe  of  flame  were  you  1 


XX 

■  Your  friend  looks  thoughtful.     Sir,  when  we  were  chill, 
You  clothed  us  warmly ;  all  in  honour  !  when 
We  starved  you  fed  us  ;  all  in  honour  still : 
Oh,  all  in  honour,  ultra-honourably  ! 
Deep  is  the  gratitude  we  owe  to  men, 
For  privileged  indeed  were  we  I 


XXI 

You  cite  exceptions,  madam,  that  are  sad. 
But  come  in  the  red  struggle  of  our  growth* 
Alas,  that  I  should  have  to  say  it  1  bad 
Is  two-sexed  upon  earth :  this  which  you  do, 
Shows  a  limal  impatience,  mental  sloth : 

Man  monstrous,  pining  seraphs  you  I 


A  BALLAD  OF  FAIR  LADIES  IN  REVOLT  159 


XXII 

I  fain  would  ask  your  friend  .  .  .  but  I  will  ask 
You,  sir,  how  if  in  place  of  numbers  vague, 
Your  sad  exceptions  were  to  break  that  mask 
They  wear  for  your  cool  mind  historically, 
And  blaze  like  black  lists  of  a  jjresent  plague  ? 
But  in  that  light  behold  them  we. 


XXIII 

•  Your  spirit  breathes  a  mist  upon  our  world, 
Lady,  and  like  a  rain  to  pierce  the  roof 
And  drench  the  bed  where  toil-tossed  man  lies  curled 
In  his  hard-earned  oblivion  !     You  are  few, 
Scattered,  ill-counselled,  blinded :  for  a  proof, 

I  have  lived,  and  have  known  none  like  you 


XXIV 

•We  may  be  blind  to  men,  sir :  we  embrace 
A  future  now  beyond  the  fowler's  nets. 
Though  few,  we  hold  a  promise  for  the  race 
That  was  not  at  our  rising:  you  are  free 
To  win  brave  mates;  you  lose  but  marionnettes. 
He  who  's  for  us,  for  him  are  we. 


160  A  BALLAD  OF  FAIR  LADIES  IN  REVOLT 


XXV 

—  Ah !  madam,  were  they  puppets  who  withstood 
Youth's  cravings  for  adventure  to  preserve 
The  dedicated  ways  of  womanhood  ? 
The  light  which  leads  us  from  the  paths  of  rue, 
That  light  above  us,  never  seen  to  swerve. 

Should  be  the  home-lamp  trimmed  by  you. 


XXVI 

—  Ah!  sir,  our  worshipped  posture  we  perchance 
Shall  not  abandon,  though  we  see  not  how. 
Being  to  that  lamp-post  fixed,  Ave  may  advance 
Beside  our  lords  in  any  real  degree. 
Unless  we  move :  and  to  advance  is  now 

A  sovereign  need,  think  more  than  we. 


XXVII 

—  So  push  you  out  of  harbour  in  small  craft. 
With  little  seamanship;  and  comes  a  gale. 
The  world  will  laugh,  the  world  has  often  laughed. 
Lady,  to  see  how  bold  when  skies  are  blue. 
When  black  winds  churn  the  deeps  how  panic-pale. 
How  swift  to  the  old  nest  fly  you! 


A  BALLAD   OF  FAIR   LADIES  IN   REVOLT  IGl 


XXVIII 

-What  thinks  your  friend,  kind  sir  ?    We  have  escaped 
But  partly  that  old  half-tamed  wild  beast's  paw 
Whereunder  woman,  the  weak  thing,  was  shaped : 
Men  too  have  known  the  cramping  enemy 
In  grim  brute  force,  whom  force  of  brain  shall  awe: 
Him  our  deliverer,  await  we  I 


XXIX 


-  Delusions  are  with  eloquence  endowed, 
And  yours  might  pluck  an  angel  from  the  spheres 
To  play  in  this  revolt  whereto  you  are  vowed, 
Deliverer,  lady!  but  like  summer  dew 
O'er  fields  that  crack  for  rain  your  friends  drop  tears, 
Who  see  the  awakening  for  you. 


XXX 

—  Is  he  our  friend,  there  silent  ?  he  weeps  not. 
0  sir,  delusion  mounting  like  a  sun 
On  a  mind  blank  as  the  white  wife  of  Lot, 
Giving  it  warmth  and  movement!  if  this  be 
Delusion,  think  of  what  thereby  was  won 

For  men,  and  dream  of  what  win  we- 


162    A  BALLAD  OF  FAIR  LADIES  m   REVOLT 


XXXI 

-  Lady,  the  destiny  of  minor  powers, 
Who  would  recast  us,  is  but  to  convulse : 
You  enter  on  a  strife  that  frets  and  sours ; 
You  can  but  win  sick  disappointment's  hue  j 
And  simply  an  accelerated  pulse, 

Some  tonic  you  have  drunk  moves  you. 


XXXII 

—  Thinks  your  friend  so  ?    Good  sir,  your  wit  is  bright ; 
But  wit  that  strives  to  speak  the  popular  voice, 
P-jts  on  its  nightcap  and  puts  out  its  light ; 
Curfe  y,  would  seem  your  conqueror's  decree 
To  womeu  likewise:  and  we  have  no  choice 
Save  darkness  or  rebellion,  we  I 


XXXIII 

—  A  plain  safe  intermediate  way  is  cleft 
By  reason  foiling  passion :  you  that  rave 
Of  mad  alternatives  to  right  and  left 
Echo  the  tempter,  madam :  and  't  is  due 
Unto  your  sex  to  shun  it  as  the  grave, 
This  later  apple  offered  you. 


A  BALLAD  OF  PAIR  LADIES  IN   REVOLT  163 


XXXIV 

-  This  apple  is  not  ripe,  it  is  not  sweet ; 
Nor  rosy,  sir,  nor  golden :  eye  and  mouth 
Are  little  wooed  by  it ;  yet  we  would  eat. 
We  are  somewhat  tired  of  Eden,  is  our  plea. 
We  have  thirsted  long ;  this  apple  suits  our  drouth : 
'T  is  good  for  men  to  halve,  think  we. 


XXXV 

-But  say,  what  seek  you,  madam  ?    'T  is  enough 
That  you  should  have  dominion  o'er  the  springs 
Domestic  and  man's  heart :  those  ways,  how  rough, 
How  vile,  outside  the  stately  avenue 
Where  you  walk  sheltered  by  your  angel's  wings, 
Are  happily  unknown  to  you. 


XXXVl 

-  We  hear  women'?;  shrieks  on  them.    We  like  your  phrase, 
Dominion  domestic !    And  that  roar, 
'What  seek  you? '  is  of  tyrants  in  all  days. 
Sir,  get  you  som"thing  of  our  purity, 
And  we  will  of  //our  strength :  we  ask  no  more. 
That  is  t)ie  sum  of  what  seek  we. 


164  A  BALLAD   OF   FAIR   LADIES   IN   EEVOLT 


xxxvn 

—  0  for  an  image,  madam,  in  one  word, 
To  show  you  as  the  lightning  night  reveals, 
Your  error  and  your  perils :  you  have  erred 
In  mind  only,  and  the  perils  that  ensue 
Swift  heels  may  soften;  wherefore  to  swift  heels 
Address  your  hopes  of  safety  you  I 


XXXVIII 

-  To  err  in  mind,  sir  .  .  .  your  friend  smiles :  he  may  I 
To  err  in  mind,  if  err  in  mind  we  can, 
Is  grievous  error  you  do  well  to  stay. 
But  0  how  different  from  reality 
Men's  fiction  is  !  how  like  you  in  the  plan, 
Is  woman,  knew  you  her  as  we  1 


XXXIX 

-  Look,  lady,  where  yon  river  winds  its  line 
Toward  sunset,  and  receives  on  breast  and  face 
The  splendour  of  fair  life :  to  be  divint, 
'T  is  nature  bids  you  be  to  nature  true. 
Flowing  with  beauty,  lending  earth  your  grace, 
Keflecting  heaven  in  clearness  yoa. 


A  BALLAD   OF   FAIR   LADIES   IN   REVOLT  165 


XL 

-  Sir,  you  speak  well :  your  friend  no  word  vouchsafes. 
To  flow  with  beauty,  breeding  fools  and  worse, 
Cowards  and  worse :  at  such  fair  life  she  chafes 
Who  is  not  wholly  of  the  nursery, 
Nor  of  your  schools :  we  share  the  primal  curse ; 
Together  shake  it  off,  say  we  I 


XLI 

-  Here,  then,  my  friend,  madam !     Tongue-restrained  he 

stands 
Till    words   are    thoughts,   and    thoughts,   like    swords 

enriched 
With  traceries  of  the  artificer's  hands, 
Are  fire-proved  steel  to  cut,  fair  flowers  to  view.  — 
Do  I  hear  him?     Oh,  he  is  bewitched,  bewitched! 
Heed  him  not !     Traitress  beauties  you ! 


XLII 

•  We  have  won  a  champion,  sisters,  and  a  sage  ? 
Ladies,  you  win  a  guest  to  a  good  feast ! 
Sir  spokesman,  sneers  are  weakness  veiling  rage. 
Of  weakness,  and  wise  men,  you  have  the  key. 
Then  are  there  fresher  mornings  mounting  East 
Than  ever  yet  have  dawned,  sing  we ! 


166  A  BALLAD   OF  FALE  LADIES   LN  BEVOLT 


XLIII 

—  False  ends  as  false  began,  madam,  be  sure  I 

—  What  lure  there  is  the  pure  cause  purifies  1 

—  Who  purifies  the  victim  of  the  lure  ? 

—  That  soul  which  bids  us  our  high  light  pursue. 

—  Some  heights  are  measured  down :  the  wary  wise 

Shun  Reason  in  the  masque  with  you  1 


XLIV 

—  Sir,  for  the  friend  you  bring  us,  take  our  thanks. 
Yes,  Beauty  was  of  old  this  barren  goal ; 
A  thing  with  claws ;  and  brute-like  in  her  pranks  I 
But  could  she  give  more  loyal  guarantee 
Than  wooing  wisdom,  that  in  her  a  soul 

Has  risen  ?     Adieu :  content  are  we ! 


XLV 

Those  ladies  led  their  captive  to  the  flood's 
Green  edge.     He  floating  with  them  seemed  the  most 
Fool-flushed  old  noddy  ever  crowned  with  buds. 
Hapi)ier  than  I !     Then,  why  not  wiser  too  ? 
For  he  that  lives  with  Beauty,  he  may  boast 
Hia  comrade  over  me  and  you. 


A  BALLAD  OF  FAIR   LADIES  IN   REVOLT  167 


XLVI 

Have  women  nursed  some  dream  since  Helen  sailed 
Over  the  sea  of  blood  the  blushing  star, 
That  beauty,  whom  frail  man  as  Goddess  hailed, 
When  not  possessing  her  (for  such  is  he  !), 
Might  in  a  wondering  season  seen  afar. 

Be  tamed  to  say  not  *  I,'  but  *  we '  ? 


XLVII 

And  shall  they  make  of  Beauty  their  estate, 
The  fortress  and  the  weapon  of  their  sex  ? 
Shall  she  in  her  frost-brilliancy  dictate, 
More  queenly  than  of  old,  how  we  must  woo, 
Ere  she  will  melt  ?     The  halter  's  on  our  necks, 
Kick  as  it  likes  us,  I  and  you. 


XLVIII 

Certain  it  is,  if  Beauty  has  disdained 
Her  ancient  conquests,  with  an  aim  thus  high : 
If  this,  if  that,  if  more,  the  fight  is  gained. 
But  can  she  keep  her  followers  without  fee  ? 
Yet  ah  !  to  hear  anew  those  ladies  cry, 
He  who 's  for  us,  for  him  are  we  ! 


JUGGLING  JEKRY 


Pitch  here  the  tent,  while  the  old  horse  grazes ! 

By  the  old  hedge-side  we  '11  halt  a  stage. 
It 's  nigh  my  last  above  the  daisies : 

My  next  leaf  '11  be  man's  blank  page. 
Yes,  my  old  girl !  and  it 's  no  use  crying : 

Juggler,  constable,  king,  must  bow. 
One  that  outjuggles  all 's  been  spying 

Long  to  have  me,  and  he  has  me  now. 


II 


We  Ve  travelled  times  to  this  old  common : 

Often  we  've  hung  our  pots  in  the  gorse. 
We  've  had  a  stirring  life,  old  woman  I 

You,  and  I,  and  the  old  grey  horse. 
Races,  and  fairs,  and  royal  occasions, 

Found  us  coming  to  their  call : 
Now  they  '11  miss  us  at  our  stations: 

There  's  a  Juggler  outjuggles  all  1 


JUGGLING  JERRY  169 


in 

Up  goes  the  lark,  as  if  all  were  jolly ! 

Over  the  duck-pond  the  willow  shakes. 
Easy  to  think  that  grieving  's  folly, 

When  the  hand 's  firm  as  driven  stakes  I 
Ay,  when  we  're  strong,  and  braced,  and  manful, 

Life  's  a  sweet  fiddle  :  but  we  're  a  batch 
Born  to  become  the  Great  Juggler's  han'ful: 

Balls  he  shies  up,  and  is  safe  to  catch. 

Here  's  where  the  lads  of  the  village  cricket : 

I  was  a  lad  not  wide  from  here : 
Could  n't  I  whip  off  the  bale  from  the  wicket  ? 

Like  an  old  world  those  days  appear ! 
Donkey,  sheep,  geese,  and  thatched  ale-house  —  I  know 
them  ! 

They  are  old  friends  of  my  halts,  and  seem, 
Somehow,  as  if  kind  thanks  I  owe  them : 

Juggling  don't  hinder  the  heart's  esteem. 


Juggling  's  no  sin,  for  we  must  have  victual: 

Nature  allows  us  to  bait  for  the  fool. 
Holding  one's  own  makes  us  juggle  no  little; 

But,  to  increase  it,  hard  juggling  's  the  rule. 
You  that  are  sneering  at  my  profession. 

Have  n't  you  juggled  a  vast  amount  ? 
There  's  the  Prime  Minister,  in  one  Session, 

Juggles  more  games  than  my  sins  '11  count. 


170  JUGGLING  JERRY 


VI 


I've  murdered  insects  with  mock  thunder: 

Conscience,  for  that,  in  men  don't  quail. 
I've  made  bread  from  the  bump  of  wonder: 

That 's  my  business,  and  there  's  my  tale. 
Fashion  and  rank  all  praised  the  professor : 

Ay  !  and  I  've  had  my  smile  from  the  Queen : 
Bravo,  Jerry !  she  meant :  God  bless  her  I 

Ain't  this  a  sermon  on  that  scene  ? 

VII 

I  've  studied  men  from  ray  topsy-turvy 

Close,  and,  I  reckon,  rather  true. 
Some  are  fine  fellows :  some,  right  scurvy : 

Most,  a  dash  between  the  two. 
But  it 's  a  woman,  old  girl,  that  makes  me 

Think  more  kindly  of  the  race: 
And  it 's  a  woman,  old  girl,  that  shakes  me 

When  the  Great  Juggler  I  must  face. 

VIII 

We  two  were  married,  due  and  legal : 

Honest  we  've  lived  since  we  've  been  one. 
Lord !  I  could  then  jump  like  an  eagle : 

You  danced  bright  as  a  bit  o'  the  sun. 
\Birds  in  a  May-bush  we  were!  right  merry  I 

All  niglit  we  kiss'd,  we  juggled  all  day. 
\oy  was  the  heart  of  Juggling  Jerry! 

Now  from  his  old  girl  he  's  juggled  away. 


JUGGLING  JEKRY  171 

IZ 

It  *s  past  parsons  to  console  us : 

No,  nor  no  doctor  fetch  for  me : 
I  can  die  without  my  bolus ; 

Two  of  a  trade,  lass,  never  agree  ! 
Parson  and  Doctor !  —  don't  they  love  rarely, 

Fighting  the  devil  in  other  men's  fields ! 
Stand  up  yourself  and  match  him  fairly : 

Then  see  how  the  rascal  yields  ! 


I,  lass,  have  lived  no  gipsy,  flaunting 

Finery  while  his  poor  helpmate  grubs  : 
Coin  I  've  stored,  and  you  won't  be  wanting : 

You  sha'n't  beg  from  the  troughs  and  tubs. 
Nobly  you  've  stuck  to  me,  though  in  his  kitchen 

Many  a  Marquis  would  hail  you  Cook  ! 
Palaces  you  could  have  ruled  and  grown  rich  in, 

But  your  old  Jerry  you  never  forsook. 

XI 

Hand  up  the  chirper !  ripe  ale  winks  in  it ; 

Let 's  have  comfort  and  be  at  peace. 
Once  a  stout  draught  made  me  light  as  a  linnet. 

Cheer  up !  the  Lord  must  have  his  lease. 
May  be  —  for  none  see  in  that  black  hollow  — 

It 's  just  a  place  where  we  're  held  in  pawn, 
And,  when  the  Great  Juggler  makes  as  to  swallow^, 

It 's  just  the  sword-trick  —  I  ain't  quite  gone ! 


172  JUGGLING   JERRY 


XIX 


Yonder  came  smells  of  the  gorse,  so  nutty, 

Gold-like  and  warm :  it 's  the  prime  of  May. 
Better  than  mortar,  brick  and  putty, 

Is  God's  house  on  a  blowing  day. 
Lean  me  more  up  the  mound ;  now  I  feel  it : 

All  the  old  heath-smells  !     Ain't  it  strange  ? 
There  's  the  world  laughing,  as  if  to  conceal  it, 

But  He 's  by  us,  juggling  the  change. 

XIII 

I  mind  it  well,  by  the  sea-beach  lying, 

Once  —  it 's  long  gone  —  when  two  gulls  we  beheld. 
Which,  as  the  moon  got  up,  were  flying 

Down  a  big  wave  that  sparked  and  swelled. 
Crack,  went  a  gun :  one  fell :  the  second 

Wheeled  round  him  twice,  and  was  off  for  new  luck; 
There  in  the  dark  her  white  wing  beckon'd  :  — 

Drop  me  a  kiss  —  I  'm  the  bird  dead-struck  I 


THE  OLD  CHAETIST 


Whate'br  I  be,  old  England  is  my  dam  I 

So  there 's  my  answer  to  the  judges,  clear. 
I  'm  nothing  of  a  fox,  nor  of  a  lamb ; 

I  don't  know  how  to  bleat  nor  how  to  leer : 

I  'm  for  the  nation ! 
That 's  why  you  see  me  by  the  wayside  here, 
Returning  home  from  transportation. 


n 

It 's  Summer  in  her  bath  this  morn,  I  think. 

I  'm  fresh  as  dew,  and  chirpy  as  the  birds  : 
And  just  for  joy  to  see  old  England  wink 
Thro'  leaves  again,  I  could  harangue  the  herds : 

Is  n't  it  something 
To  speak  out  like  a  man  when  you  've  got  words. 
And  prove  you  're  not  a  stupid  dumb  thing  ? 


174  THE  OLD  CHAETIST 


III 

They  shipp'd  me  off  for  it ;  I  'm  here  again. 

Old  England  is  my  dam,  whate'er  I  be ! 
Says  I,  I  '11  tramp  it  home,  and  see  the  grain :    . 
If  you  see  well,  you  're  king  of  what  you  see: 

Eyesight  is  having, 
If  you  're  not  given,  I  said,  to  gluttony. 
Such  talk  to  ignorance  sounds  as  raving. 


You  dear  old  brook,  that  from  his  Grace's  park 

Come  bounding !  on  you  run  near  my  old  town : 
My  lord  can't  lock  the  water  ;  nor  the  lark, 
Unless  he  kills  him,  can  my  lord  keep  down. 

Up,  is  the  song-note  ! 
I  've  tried  it,  too  :  —  for  comfort  and  renown, 
I  rather  pitch'd  upon  the  wrong  note. 


I  *m  not  ashamed :  Not  beaten  's  still  my  boast : 

Again  I  '11  rouse  the  people  up  to  strike. 
But  home's  where  different  politics  jar  most. 
Eespectability  the  women  like. 

This  form,  or  that  form,  — 
The  Government  may  be  hungry  pike. 
But  don't  you  mount  a  Chartist  platform  1 


THE  OLD   CHARTIST  "    175 


VI 


Well,  well  I    Not  beaten  —  spite  of  them,  I  shout ; 

And  my  estate  is  suffering  for  the  Cause.  — 
No,  —  what  is  yon  brown  water-rat  about, 
Who  washes  his  old  poll  with  busy  paws  ? 

What  does  he  mean  by  't  ? 
It 's  like  defying  all  our  natural  laws, 

For  him  to  hope  that  he  '11  get  clean  by 't. 


VII 

His  seat  is  on  a  mud-bank,  and  his  trade 

Is  dirt :  —  he  's  quite  contemptible  ;  and  yet 
The  fellow  's  all  as  anxious  as  a  maid 
To  show  a  decent  dress,  and  dry  the  wet. 

Now  it 's  his  whisker, 
And  now  his  nose,  and  ear :  he  seems  to  get 
Each  moment  at  the  motion  brisker  I 


vin 

To  see  him  squat  like  little  chaps  at  school, 
I  could  let  fly  a  laugh  with  all  my  might. 
He  peers,  hangs  both  his  fore-paws  :  —  bless  that  fool, 
He 's  bobbing  at  his  frill  now  !  —  what  a  sight ! 

Licking  the  dish  up, 
As  if  he  thought  to  pass  from  black  to  white, 
Like  parson  into  lawny  bishop. 


176  THE  OLD  CHARTIST 


IX 


The  elms  and  yellow  reed-flags  in  the  sun, 

Look  on  quite  grave  :  —  the  sunlight  flecks  his  side ; 
And  links  of  bindweed-flowers  round  him  run, 
And  shine  up  doubled  with  him  in  the  tide. 

I  'm  nearly  splitting, 
But  nature  seems  like  seconding  his  pride, 
And  thinks  that  his  behaviour  's  fitting. 


That  isle  o'  mud  looks  baking  dry  with  gold. 

His  needle-muzzle  still  works  out  and  in. 
It  really  is  a  wonder  to  behold, 

And  makes  me  feel  the  bristles  of  my  chin. 

Judged  by  appearance, 
I  fancy  of  the  two  I  'm  nearer  Sin, 
And  might  as  well  commence  a  clearance. 


zi 

And  that's  what  my  fine  daughter  said:  —  she  meant 

Fray,  hold  your  tongue,  and  wear  a  Sunday  face. 
Her  husband,  the  young  linendraper,  spent 

Much  argument  thereon  :  — I  'm  their  disgrace. 

Bother  the  couple ! 
I  feel  superior  to  a  chap  whose  place 
Commands  him  to  be  neat  and  supple. 


THE  OLD  CHARTIST  17' 


XII 


But  if  I  go  and  say  to  my  old  hen : 

I  '11  mend  the  gentry's  boots,  and  keep  discreet, 
Until  they  grow  too  violent,  —  why,  then, 
A  warmer  welcome  I  might  chance  to  meet : 

Warmer  and  better. 
And  if  she  fancies  her  old  cock  is  beat, 
And  drops  upon  her  knees  —  so  let  her  1 


xin 

She  suffered  for  me :  —  women,  you  '11  observe, 

Don't  suffer  for  a  Cause,  but  for  a  man. 
When  I  was  in  the  dock  she  show'd  her  nerve : 
I  saw  beneath  her  shawl  my  old  tea-can. 

Trembling  .  .  .  she  brought  it 
To  screw  me  for  my  work :  she  loath'd  my  plan, 
And  therefore  doubly  kind  I  thought  it. 


XIV 

I  've  never  lost  the  taste  of  that  same  tea : 

That  liquor  on  my  logic  floats  like  oil, 
When  I  state  facts,  and  fellows  disagree. 
For  human  creatures  all  are  in  a  coil ; 

All  may  want  pardon. 
I  see  a  day  when  every  pot  will  boil 
Harmouious  in  one  great  Tea-garden  I 


178  THE  OLD  CHAKTIST 

TV 

We  wait  the  setting  of  the  Dandy's  day, 

Before  that  time !  —  He 's  furbishing  his  dress,  • 
He  will  be  ready  for  it !  —  and  I  say. 

That  yon  old  dandy  rat  amid  the  cress,  — 

Thanks  to  hard  labour  !  — 
If  cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness, 
The  old  fat  fellow  's  heaven's  neighbour  1 


XVI 

You  teach  me  a  fine  lesson,  my  old  boy  I 

I  've  looked  on  my  superiors  far  too  long. 
And  small  has  been  my  profit  as  my  joy. 

You  've  done  the  right  while  I  've  denounced  the  wrong. 

Prosper  me  later ! 
Like  you  I  will  despise  the  sniggering  throng, 
And  please  myself  and  my  Creator. 


XVII 

I  '11  bring  the  linendraper  and  his  wife 

Some  day  to  see  you  ;  taking  off  my  hat. 
Should  they  ask  why,  I  '11  answer  :  in  my  life 
I  never  found  so  true  a  democrat. 

Base  occupation 
Can't  rob  you  of  your  own  esteem,  old  rat  I 
I  '11  preach  you  to  the  British  nation. 


MARTIN'S  PUZZLE 


There  she  goes  up  the  street  with  her  book  in  her  hand, 

And  her  Good  morning,  Martin  !    Ay,  lass,  how  d'  ye  do  ? 
Very  well,  thank  you,  Martin  !  —  I  can't  understand ! 

I  might  just  as  well  never  have  cobbled  a  shoe  ! 
I  can't  understand  it.     She  talks  like  a  song  ; 

Her  voice  takes  your  ear  like  the  ring  of  a  glass  ; 
She  seems  to  give  gladness  while  limping  along, 

Yet  sinner  ne'er  suffer'd  like  that  little  lass. 


II 

First,  a  fool  of  a  boy  ran  her  down  with  a  cart. 

Then,  her  fool  of  a  father  —  a  blacksmith  by  trade  — 
Why  the  deuce  does  he  tell  us  it  half  broke  his  heart  ? 

His  heart !  —  where  's  the  leg  of  the  poor  little  maid  ! 
Well,  that 's  not  enough  ;  they  must  push  her  downstairs, 

To  make  her  go  crooked  :  but  why  count  the  list  ? 
If  it 's  right  to  suppose  that  our  human  affairs 

Are  all  order'd  by  heaven  —  there,  bang  goes  my  fist ' 


180  mahtin's  puzzle 


in 

For  if  angels  can  look  on  such  sights  — never  mind! 

When  you  're  next  to  blaspheming,  it 's  best  to  be  mum. 
The  parson  declares  that  her  woes  were  n't  designed ; 

But,  then,  with  the  parson  it's  all  kingdom-come. 
Lose  a  leg,  save  a  soul  —  a  convenient  text ; 

I  call  it  Tea  doctrine,  not  savouring  of  God. 
When  poor  little  Molly  wants  *  chastening,'  why,  next 

The  Archangel  Michael  might  taste  of  the  rod. 

IV 

But,  to  see  the  poor  darling  go  limping  for  miles 

To  read  books  to  sick  people  !  —  and  just  of  an  age 
When  girls  learn  the  meaning  of  ribands  and  smiles ! 

Makes  me  feel  like  a  squirrel  that  turns  in  a  cage. 
The  more  I  push  thinking  the  more  I  revolve  : 

I  never  get  farther :  — and  as  to  her  face. 
It  starts  up  when  near  on  my  puzzle  I  solve, 

And  says,  '  This  crush'd  body  seems  such  a  sad  case.* 


Not  that  she 's  for  complaining  :  she  reads  to  earn  pence  ; 

And  from  those  who  can't  pay,  simple  thanks  are  enough. 
Does  she  leave  lamentation  for  chaps  without  sense  ? 

Howsoever,  she  's  made  up  of  wonderful  stuff. 
Ay,  the  soul  in  her  body  must  be  a  stout  cord^ 

She  sings  little  liymns  at  the  close  of  the  day, 
Thougli  she  has  but  tliree  fingers  to  lift  to  the  Lord, 

And  only  one  leg  to  kneel  down  with  to  pray. 


martin's  puzzle  181 

VI 

What  I  ask  is,  Why  persecute  such  a  poor  dear, 

If  there  's  Law  above  all  ?     Answer  that  if  you  can  I 
Irreligious  I  'm  not ;  but  I  look  on  this  sphere 

As  a  place  where  a  man  should  just  think  like  a  man. 
It  is  n't  fair  dealing!     But,  contrariwise, 

Do  bullets  in  battle  the  wicked  select  ? 
Why,  then  it 's  all  chance-work  !     And  yet,  in  her  eyes. 

She  holds  a  fixed  something  by  which  I  am  checked. 

VII 

Yonder  riband  of  sunshine  aslope  on  the  wall, 

If  you  eye  it  a  minute  '11  have  the  same  look : 
So  kind !  and  so  merciful !     God  of  us  all  ! 

It 's  the  very  same  lesson  we  get  from  the  Book. 
Then,  is  Life  but  a  trial  ?     Is  that  what  is  meant  ? 

Some  must  toil,  and  some  perish,  for  others  below: 
The  injustice  to  each  spreads  a  common  content; 

Ay  I  I  've  lost  it  again,  for  it  can't  be  quite  so. 

VIII 

She 's  the  victim  of  fools  :  that  seems  nearer  the  mark. 

On  earth  there  are  engines  and  numerous  fools. 
Why  the  Lord  can  permit  them,  we  're  still  in  the  dark; 

He  does,  and  in  some  sort  of  way  they  're  his  tools. 
It 's  a  roundabout  way,  with  respect  let  me  add, 

If  Molly  goes  crippled  that  we  may  be  taught : 
But,  perhaps,  it 's  the  only  way,  though  it 's  so  bad ; 

In  that  case  we  '11  bow  down  our  heads,  —  as  we  ought 


182  MARTLN'S  PUZZLE 


IX 

But  the  worst  of  me  is,  that  when  I  bow  my  head, 

I  perceive  a  thought  wriggling  away  in  the  dust, 
And  I  follow  its  tracks,  quite  forgetful,  instead 

Of  humble  acceptance  :  for,  question  I  must ! 
Here  's  a  creature  made  carefully  —  carefully  made ! 

Put  together  with  craft,  and  then  stamped  on,  and  why  ? 
The  answer  seems  nowhere  :  it 's  discord  that's  played. 

The  sky  's  a  blue  dish  ! —  an  implacable  sky  I 


Stop  a  moment.    I  seize  an  idea  from  the  pit. 

They  tell  us  that  discord,  though  discord,  alone, 
Can  be  harmony  when  the  notes  properly  fit : 

Am  I  judging  all  things  from  a  single  false  tone  ? 
Is  the  Universe  one  immense  Organ,  that  rolls 

From  devils  to  angels  ?     I  'm  blind  with  the  sight. 
It  pours  such  a  splendour  on  heaps  of  poor  souls  ! 

I  might  try  at  kneeling  with  Molly  to-night. 


0-v  /  4i  /  di  </  -^    '  ^  6  ' 


MARIAN 


She  can  be  as  wise  as  we, 

And  wiser  when  she  wishes ; 
She  can  knit  with  cunning  wit, 

And  dress  the  homely  dishes. 
She  can  flourish  staff  or  pen, 

And  deal  a  wound  that  lingers ; 
She  can  talk  the  talk  of  men, 

And  touch  with  thrilling  fingers. 


n 

Match  her  ye  across  the  sea. 

Natures  fond  and  fiery ; 
Ye  who  zest  the  turtle's  nest 

With  the  eagle's  eyrie. 
Soft  and  loving  is  her  soul. 

Swift  and  lofty  soaring; 
Mixing  with  its  dove-like  dole 

Passionate  adoring. 


184  MARIAN 


in 


Such  a  she  who  '11  match  with  me  ? 

In  flying  or  pursuing, 
Subtle  wiles  are  in  her  smiles 

To  set  the  world  a-wooing. 
She  is  steadfast  as  a  star, 

And  yet  the  maddest  maiden : 
She  can  wage  a  gallant  war, 

And  give  the  peace  of  Eden. 


SONNETS  185 


SONNETS 


LUCIFER  IN  STAELIGHT 

On  a  starred  uight  Prince  Lucifer  uprose. 
Tired  of  his  dark  dominion  swung  the  fiend 
Above  the  rolling  ball  in  cloud  part  screened, 
Where  sinners  hugged  their  spectre  of  repose. 
Poor  prey  to  his  hot  fit  of  pride  were  those. 
And  now  upon  his  western  wing  he  leaned, 
Now  his  huge  bulk  o'er  Afric's  sands  careened, 
Now  the  black  planet  shadowed  Arctic  snows. 
Soaring  through  wider  zones  that  pricked  his  scars 
With  memory  of  the  old  revolt  from  Awe, 
He  reached  a  middle  height,  and  at  the  stars, 
Which  are  the  brain  of  heaven,  he  looked,  and  sank. 
Around  the  ancient  track  marched,  rank  on  rank, 
The  army  of  unalterable  law. 


186  SONNETS 


THE   STAR  SIRIUS 

Bright  Sirius  !  that  when  Orion  pales 

To  dotlings  under  moonlight  still  art  keen 

With  cheerful  fervour  of  a  warrior's  mien 

Who  holds  in  his  great  heart  tlie  battle-scales : 

Unquenched  of  flame  though  swift  the  flood  assails, 

Reducing  many  lustrous  to  the  leau  : 

Be  thou  my  star,  and  thou  in  me  be  seen 

To  show  what  source  divine  is,  and  prevails. 

Long  watches  through,  at  one  with  godly  night, 

I  mark  thee  planting  joy  in  constant  fire ; 

And  thy  quick  beams,  whose  jets  of  life  inspire 

Life  to  the  spirit,  passion  for  the  light. 

Dark  Earth  since  first  she  lost  her  lord  from  sight 

Has  viewed  and  felt  them  sweep  her  as  a  lyre. 


SONNETS  187 


SENSE  AND   SPIRIT 

The  senses  loving  Earth  or  well  or  ill, 

Ravel  yet  more  the  riddle  of  our  lot. 

The  mind  is  in  their  trammels,  and  lights  not 

By  trimming  fear-bred  tales ;  nor  does  the  will 

To  find  in  nature  things  which  less  may  chill 

An  ardour  that  desires,  unknowing  what. 

Till  we  conceive  her  living  we  go  distraught, 

At  best  but  circle-windsails  of  a  mill. 

Seeing  she  lives,  and  of  her  joy  of  life 

Creatively  has  given  us  blood  and  breath 

For  endless  war  and  never  wound  unhealed, 

The  gloomy  Wherefore  of  our  battle-field 

Solves  in  the  Spirit,  wrought  of  her  through  strife 

To  read  her  own  and  trust  her  down  to  death. 


188  SONNETS 


EARTH'S  SECRET 

Not  solitarily  in  fields  we  find 

Earth's  secret  open,  though  one  page  is  there; 

Her  plainest,  such  as  children  spell,  and  share 

With  bird  and  beast ;  raised  letters  for  the  blind. 

Not  where  the  troubled  passions  toss  the  mind, 

In  turbid  cities,  can  the  key  be  bare. 

It  hangs  for  those  who  hither  thither  fare, 

Close  interthreading  nature  with  our  kind. 

They,  hearing  History  speak,  of  what  men  were, 

And  have  become,  are  wise.    The  gain  is  great 

In  vision  and  solidity ;  it  lives. 

Yet  at  a  thought  of  life  apart  from  her, 

Solidity  and  vision  lose  their  state. 

For  Earth,  that  gives  the  milk,  the  spirit  gives. 


SONNETS  ^^^ 


THE  SPIRIT   OF   SHAKESPEARE 

Thy  greatest  knew  thee,  Mother  Earth  ;  unsoured 
He  knew  thy  sons.    He  probed  from  hell  to  hell 
Of  human  passions,  but  of  love  deflowered 
His  wisdom  was  not,  for  he  knew  thee  well. 
Thence  came  the  honeyed  corner  at  his  lips, 
The  conquering  smile  wherein  his  spirit  sails 
Calm  as  the  God  who  the  white  sea-wave  whips, 
Yet  full  of  speech  and  intershifting  tales, 
Close  mirrors  of  us  :  thence  had  he  the  laugh 
We  feel  is  thine :  broad  as  ten  thousand  beeves 
At  pasture !  thence  thy  songs,  that  winnow  chaff 
From  grain,  bid  sick  Philosophy's  last  leaves 
Whirl,  if  they  have  no  response  —  they  enforcec 
To  fatten  Earth  when  from  her  soul  divorced. 


190  SONNETS 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SHAKESPEARE   {continued) 

How  smiles  he  at  a  generation  ranked 
In  gloomy  noddings  over  life  !     They  pass. 
Not  he  to  feed  upon  a  breast  unthanked, 
Or  eye  a  beauteous  face  in  a  cracked  glass. 
But  he  can  spy  that  little  twist  of  brain 
Which  moved  some  weighty  leader  of  the  blind, 
Unwitting  't  was  the  goad  of  personal  pain, 
To  view  in  curst  eclipse  our  Mother's  mind, 
And  show  us  of  some  rigid  harridan 
The  wretched  bondmen  till  the  end  of  time. 
0  lived  the  Master  now  to  paint  us  Man, 
That  little  twist  of  brain  would  ring  a  chime 
Of  whence  it  came  and  what  it  caused,  to  start 
Thunders  of  laughter,  clearing  air  and  heart. 


SONNETS  191 


INTERNAL  HARMONY 

Assured  of  worthiness  we  do  not  dread 
Competitors  ;  we  rather  give  them  hail 
And  greeting  in  the  lists  where  we  may  fail: 
Must,  if  we  bear  an  aim  beyond  the  head ! 
My  betters  are  my  masters  :  purely  fed 
By  their  sustainment  I  likewise  shall  scale 
Some  rocky  steps  between  the  mount  and  vale  ; 
Meanwhile  the  mark  I  have  and  I  will  wed. 
So  that  I  draw  the  breath  of  finer  air, 
Station  is  nought,  nor  footways  laurel-strewn, 
Nor  rivals  tightly  belted  for  the  race. 
Good  speed  to  them  !     My  place  is  here  or  there ; 
My  pride  is  that  among  them  I  have  place : 
And  thus  I  keep  this  instrument  in  tune. 


192  SONNETS 


GRACE  AND   LOVE 

Two  flower-enfolding  crystal  vases  she 

I  love  fills  daily,  mindful  but  of  one : 

And  close  behind  pale  morn  she,  like  the  sun 

Priming  our  world  with  light,  pours,  sweet  to  see, 

Clear  water  in  the  cup,  and  into  me 

The  image  of  herself :  and  that  being  done, 

Choice  of  what  blooms  round  her  fair  garden  run 

In  climbers  or  in  creepers  or  the  tree, 

She  ranges  with  unerring  fingers  fine, 

To  harmony  so  vivid  that  through  sight 

I  hear,  I  have  her  heavenliness  to  fold 

Beyond  the  senses,  where  such  love  as  mine, 

Such  grace  as  hers,  should  the  strange  Fates  withhoJA 

Their  starry  more  from  her  and  me,  unite. 


soN>rETs  193 


APPEECIATION 

Earth  was  not  Earth  before  her  sons  appeared, 
Nor  Beauty  Beauty  ere  young  Love  was  born : 
And  thou  when  I  lay  hidden  wast  as  morn 
At  city-windows,  touching  eyelids  bleared; 
To  none  by  her  fresh  wingedness  endeared  j 
Unwelcome  unto  revellers  outworn. 
I  the  last  echoes  of  Diana's  horn 
In  woodland  heard,  and  saw  thee  come,  and  cheered. 
No  longer  wast  thou  then  mere  light,  fair  soul ! 
And  more  than  simple  duty  moved  thy  feet. 
New  colours  rose  in  thee,  from  fear,  from  shame, 
From  hope,  effused :  though  not  less  pure  a  scroll 
May  men  read  on  the  heart  I  taught  to  beat : 
That  change  in  thee,  if  not  thyself,  I  claim. 


194  SONNETS 


THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  WISDOM 

Rich  labour  is  the  struggle  to  be  wise, 

While  we  make  sure  the  struggle  cannot  cease. 

Else  better  were  it  in  some  bower  of  peace 

Slothful  to  swing,  contending  with  the  flies. 

You  point  at  Wisdom  fixed  on  lofty  skies, 

As  mid  barbarian  hordes  a  sculptured  Greece : 

She  falls.     To  live  and  shine,  she  grows  her  fleece. 

Is  shorn,  and  rubs  with  follies  and  with  lies. 

So  following  her,  your  hewing  may  attain 

The  right  to  speak  unto  the  mute,  and  shun 

That  sly  temptation  of  the  illumined  brain, 

Deliveries  oracular,  self-spun. 

Who  sweats  not  with  the  flock  will  seek  in  vain 

To  shed  the  words  which  are  ripe  fruit  of  sun. 


SONNETS  195 


THE   STATE   OF  AGE 

EuB  thou  thy  battered  lamp :  nor  claim  nor  beg 

Honours  from  aught  about  thee.     Light  the  young. 

Thy  frame  is  as  a  dusty  mantle  hung, 

0  grey  one  !  pendant  on  a  loosened  peg. 

Thou  art  for  this  our  life  an  ancient  egg, 

Or  a  tough  bird :  thou  hast  a  rudderless  tongue, 

Turning  dead  trifles,  like  the  cock  of  dung ; 

Which  runs,  Time's  contrast  to  thy  halting  leg. 

Nature,  it  is  most  sure,  not  thee  admires. 

But  hast  thou  in  thy  season  set  her  fires 

To  burn  from  Self  to  Spirit  through  the  lash, 

Honoured  the  sons  of  Earth  shall  hold  thee  high: 

Yea,  to  spread  light  when  thy  proud  letter  I 

Drops  prone  and  void  as  any  thoughtless  dash. 


196  SONNETS 


PEOGEESS 

In  Progress  you  have  little  faith,  say  you : 

Men  will  maintain  dear  interests,  wreak  base  hates, 

By  force,  and  gentle  women  choose  their  mates 

Most  amorously  from  the  gilded  fighting  crew : 

The  human  heart  Bellona's  mad  halloo 

Will  ever  fire  to  dicing  with  the  Fates. 

*  Now  at  this  time,'  says  History,  '  those  two  States 

*  Stood  ready  their  past  wrestling  to  renew. 

*  They  sharpened  arms  and  showed  them,  like  the  brutes 

*  Whose  haunches  quiver.     But  a  yellow  blight 
'Fell  on  their  waxing  harvests.     They  deferred 
*The  bloody  settlement  of  their  disputes 

*Till  God  should  bless  them  better.'     They  did  right. 
And  naming  Progress,  both  shall  have  the  word. 


SONNETS  197 


THE  WORLD'S  ADVANCE 

Judge  mildly  the  tasked  world ;  and  disincline 

To  brand  it,  for  it  bears  a  heavy  pack. 

You  have  perchance  observed  the  inebriate's  track 

At  night  when  he  has  quitted  the  inn-sign : 

He  plays  diversions  on  the  homeward  line, 

Still  that  way  bent  albeit  his  legs  are  slack : 

A  hedge  may  take  him,  but  he  turns  not  back, 

Nor  turns  this  burdened  world,  of  curving  spine. 

'  Spiral,'  the  memorable  Lady  terms 

Our  mind's  ascent :  our  world's  advance  presents 

That  figure  on  a  flat;  the  way  of  worms. 

Cherish  the  promise  of  its  good  intents, 

And  warn  it,  not  one  instinct  to  efface 

Ere  Reason  ripens  for  the  vacant  place. 


198  SONNETS 


A  CERTAIN  PEOPLE 

As  Puritans  they  prominently  wax, 

And  none  more  kindly  gives  and  takes  hard  knocks. 

Strong  psalmic  chanting,  like  to  nasal  cocks. 

They  join  to  thunderings  of  their  hearty  thwacks. 

But  naughtiness,  with  hoggery.  not  lacks 

When  Peace  another  door  in  them  unlocks. 

Where  conscience  shows  the  eyeing  of  an  ox 

Grown  dully  apprehensive  of  an  Axe. 

Graceless  they  are  when  gone  to  frivolousness, 

Fearing  the  God  they  flout,  the  God  they  glut. 

They  need  their  pious  exercises  less 

Than  schooling  in  the  Pleasures :  fair  belief 

That  these  are  devilish  only  to  their  thief. 

Charged  with  an  Axe  nigh  on  the  occiput. 


SONNETS 


199 


THE  GAEDEN  OF  EPICURUS 

That  Garden  of  sedate  Philosophy 

Once  flourished,  fenced  from  passion  and  mishap, 

A  shining  spot  upon  a  shaggy  map ; 

Where  mind  and  body,  in  fair  junction  free, 

Luted  their  joyful  concord ;  like  the  tree 

From  root  to  flowering  twigs  a  flowing  sap. 

Clear  Wisdom  found  in  tended  Nature's  lap. 

Of  gentlemen  the  happy  nursery. 

That  Garden  would  on  light  supremest  verge. 

Were  the  long  drawing  of  an  equal  breath 

Healthful  for  Wisdom's  head,  her  heart,  her  aims. 

Our  world  which  for  its  Babels  wants  a  scourge, 

And  for  its  wilds  a  husbandman,  acclaims 

The  crucifix  that  came  of  Nazareth. 


200  SONNETS 


A  LATER  ALEXANDRIAN. 

An  inspiration  caught  from  dubious  hues, 

Filled  him,  and  mystic  wrynesses  he  chased; 

For  they  lead  farther  than  the  single-faced, 

Wave  subtler  promise  when  desire  pursues. 

The  moon  of  cloud  discoloured  was  his  Muse, 

His  pipe  the  reed  of  the  old  moaning  waste. 

Love  was  to  him  with  anguish  fast  enlaced, 

And  Beauty  where  she  walked  blood-shot  the  dews. 

Men  railed  at  such  a  singer ;  women  thrilled 

Responsively :  he  sang  not  Nature's  own 

Divinest,  but  his  lyric  had  a  tone, 

As  't  were  a  forest-echo  of  her  voice : 

What  barrenly  they  yearn  for  seemed  distilled 

From  what  they  dread,  who  do  through  tears  rejoice. 


SONNETS  201 


AN  ORSON   OF  THE  MUSE 

Her  son,  albeit  the  Muse's  livery 

And  measured  courtly  paces  rouse  his  taunts, 

Naked  and  hairy  in  his  savage  haunts, 

To  Nature  only  will  he  bend  the  knee ; 

Spouting  the  founts  of  her  distillery 

Like  rough  rock-sources  ;  and  his  woes  and  wants, 

Being  Nature's,  civil  limitation  daunts 

His  utterance  never ;  the  nymphs  blush,  not  he. 

Him,  when  he  blows  of  Earth,  and  Man,  and  Fate, 

The  Muse  will  hearken  to  with  graver  ear 

Than  many  of  her  train  can  waken :  him 

Would  fain  have  taught  what  fruitful  things  and  dear 

Must  sink  beneath  the  tidewaves,  of  their  weight, 

If  in  no  vessel  built  for  sea  they  swim. 


202  SONNETS 


THE  POINT  OF  TASTE 

Unhappy  poets  of  a  sunken  prime  I 

You  to  reviewers  are  as  ball  to  bat. 

They  shadow  you  with  Homer,  knock  you  flat 

With  Shakespeare :  bludgeons  brainingly  sublime 

On  you  the  excommunicates  of  Rhyme, 

Because  you  sing  not  in  the  living  Fat. 

The  wiry  whizz  of  an  intrusive  gnat 

Is  verse  that  shuns  their  self-producing  time. 

Sound  them  their  clocks,  with  loud  alarum  trump, 

Or  watches  ticking  temporal  at  their  fobs, 

You  win  their  pleased  attention.     But,  bright  God 

0'  the  lyre,  what  bully-drawlers  they  applaud  I 

Rather  for  us  a  tavern-catch,  and  bump 

Chorus  where  Lumpkin  with  his  Giles  hobnobs. 


SONNETS  203 


CAMELUS  SALTAT 

What  say  you,  critic,  now  you  have  become 
An  author  and  maternal  ?  —  in  this  trap 
(To  quote  you)  of  poor  hollow  folk  who  rap 
On  instruments  as  like  as  drum  to  drum. 
You  snarled  tut-tut  for  welcome  to  tum-tum, 
So  like  the  nose  fly-teased  in  its  noon's  nap. 
You  scratched  an  insect-slaughtering  thunder-clap 
With  that  between  the  fingers  and  the  thumb. 
It  seemeth  mad  to  quit  the  Olympian  couch, 
Which  bade  our  public  gobble  or  reject. 
0  spectacle  of  Peter,  shrewdly  pecked, 
Piper,  by  his  own  pepper  from  his  pouch! 
What  of  the  sneer,  the  jeer,  the  voice  austere, 
You  dealt  ?  —  the  voice  austere,  the  jeer,  the  sneer. 


204  SONNETS 


CAMELUS   SALTAT  {continued) 

Obacle  of  the  market !  thence  you  drew 

The  taste  which  stamped  you  guide  of  the  inept.  — 

A  North-sea  pilot,  Hildebrand  yclept, 

A  sturdy  and  a  briny,  once  men  knew. 

He  loved  small  beer,  and  for  that  copious  brew, 

To  roll  ingurgitation  till  he  slept, 

Rations  exchanged  with  flavour  for  the  adept : 

And  merrily  plied  him  captain,  mate  and  crew. 

At  last  this  dancer  to  the  Polar  star 

Sank,  washed  out  within,  and  overboard  was  pitched, 

To  drink  the  sea  and  pilot  him  to  land. 

0  captain-critic!  printed,  neatly  stitched, 

Know,  while  the  pillory-eggs  fly  fast,  they  are 

Not  eggs,  but  the  drowned  soul  of  Hildebrand. 


SONNETS  205 


TO  J.  M. 

Let  Fate  or  Insufficiency  provide 

Mean  ends  for  men  who  what  they  are  would  be» 

Penned  in  their  narrow  day  no  change  they  see 

Save  one  which  strikes  the  blow  to  brutes  and  pride. 

Our  faith  is  ours  and  comes  not  on  a  tide : 

And  whether  Earth's  great  offspring,  by  decree, 

Must  rot  if  they  abjure  rapacity, 

Not  argument  but  effort  shall  decide. 

They  number  many  heads  in  that  hard  flock : 

Trim  swordsmen  they  push  forth :  yet  try  thy  steel. 

Thou,  fighting  for  poor  humankind,  wilt  feel 

The  strength  of  Roland  in  thy  wrist  to  hew 

A  chasm  sheer  into  the  barrier  rock. 

And  bring  the  army  of  the  faithful  through. 


206  SONNETS 


TO  A  FEIEND  LOST 

(t.  t.) 

When  I  remember,  friend,  whom  lost  I  call. 
Because  a  man  beloved  is  taken  hence. 
The  tender  humour  and  the  fire  of  sense 
In  your  good  eyes ;  how  full  of  heart  for  all, 
And  chiefly  for  the  weaker  by  the  wall. 
You  bore  that  lamp  of  sane  benevolence ; 
Then  see  I  round  you  Death  liis  shadows  dense 
Divide,  and  at  your  feet  his  emblems  fall. 
For  surely  are  you  one  with  the  white  host, 
Spirits,  whose  memory  in  our  vital  air  ^j 

Through  the  great  love  of  Earth  they  had :  lo,  these. 
Like  beams  that  throw  the  path  on  tossing  seas, 
Can  bid  us  feel  we  keep  them  in  the  ghost, 
Partakers  of  a  strife  they  joyed  to  share. 


SONNETS  207 


MY  THEME 

Of  me  and  of  my  theme  think  what  thou  wilt : 
The  song  of  gladness  one  straight  bolt  can  check. 
But  I  have  never  stood  at  Fortune's  beck : 
Were  she  and  her  light  crew  to  run  atilt 
At  my  poor  holding  little  would  be  spilt ; 
Small  were  the  praise  for  singing  o'er  that  wreck. 
Who  courts  her  dooms  to  strife  his  bended  neck; 
He  grasps  a  blade,  not  always  by  the  hilt. 
Nathless  she  strikes  at  random,  can  be  fell 
With  other  than  those  votaries  she  deals 
The  black  or  brilliant  from  her  thunder-rift. 
I  say  but  that  this  love  of  Earth  reveals 
A  soul  beside  our  own  to  quicken,  quell, 
Irradiate,  and  through  ruinous  floods  uplift. 


208  SONNETS 


MY  THEME  (contimied) 

'T  IS  true  the  wisdom  that  my  mind  exacts 

Through  contemplation  from  a  heart  unbent 

By  many  tempests  may  be  stained  and  rent : 

The  summer  flies  it  mightily  attracts. 

Yet  they  seem  choicer  than  your  sons  of  facts, 

Which  scarce  give  breathing  of  the  sty's  content 

For  their  diurnal  carnal  nourishment: 

Which  treat  with  Nature  in  official  pacts. 

The  deader  body  Nature  could  proclaim. 

Much  life  have  neither.     Let  the  heavens  of  wrath 

Rattle,  then  both  scud  scattering  to  froth. 

But  during  calms  the  flies  of  idle  aim 

Less  put  the  spirit  out,  less  baffle  thirst 

For  light  than  swinish  grunters,  blest  or  curst. 


SONNETS  209 


TIME  AND   SENTIMENT 

I  SEE  a  fair  young  couple  in  a  wood, 

And  as  they  go,  one  bends  to  take  a  flower, 

That  so  may  be  embalmed  their  happy  hour, 

And  in  another  day,  a  kindred  mood, 

Haply  together,  or  in  solitude, 

Kecovered  what  the  teeth  of  Time  devour 

The  joy,  the  bloom,  and  the  illusive  power. 

Wherewith  by  their  young  blood  they  are  endued 

To  move  all  enviable,  framed  in  May, 

And  of  an  aspect  sisterly  with  Truth : 

Yet  seek  they  with  Time's  laughing  things  to  wed : 

Who  will  be  prompted  on  some  pallid  day 

To  lift  the  hueless  flower  and  show  that  dead, 

Even  such,  and  by  this  token,  is  their  youth. 


14 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 
THE  TWO  MASKS 


Melpomene  among  her  livid  people, 
Ere  stroke  of  lyre,  upon  Thaleia  looks, 
Warned  by  old  contests  tliat  one  museful  ripple 
Along  those  lips  of  rose  with  tendril  hooks, 
Forebodes  disturbance  in  the  springs  of  pathos, 
Perchance  may  change  of  masks  midway  demand, 
Albeit  the  man  rise  mountainous  as  Athos, 
The  woman  wild  as  Cape  Leucadia  stand. 


n 

For  this  the  Comic  Muse  exacts  of  creatures 
Appealing  to  the  fount  of  tears  :  that  they 
Strive  never  to  outleap  our  human  features, 
And  do  Right  Reason's  ordinance  obey, 
In  peril  of  the  hum  to  lavighter  nighest. 
But  prove  they  under  stress  of  action's  fire 
Nobleness,  to  that  test  of  Reason  highest. 
She  bows  :  she  waves  them  for  the  loftier  lyre. 

VOL.   11.  —  1 


AECHDUCHESS  ANNE 


In  middle  age  an  evil  thing 
Befell  Archduchess  Anne  : 

She  looked  outside  her  wedding-ring 
Upon  a  princely  man. 


II 


Count  Louis  was  for  horse  and  arms ; 
And  if  its  beacon  waved, 
or  love  ;  but  ladies  had  not  charms 
To  match  a  danger  braved. 


Ill 


On  battlefields  he  was  the  bow 
Bestrung  to  fly  the  shaft  : 

In  idle  hours  liis  heart  would  flow 
As  winds  on  currents  waft. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF   TEAGIC   LIFE  213 

IV 

His  blood  was  of  those  warrior  tribes 

That  streamed  from  morning's  fire, 
Whom  now  with  traps  and  now  with  bribes 

The  wily  Council  wire. 

V 

Archduchess  Anne  the  Council  ruled, 

Count  Louis  his  great  dame ; 
And  woe  to  both  when  one  had  cooled  I 

Little  was  she  to  blame. 

VI 

Among  her  chiefs  who  spun  their  plots, 

Old  Kraken  stood  the  sword  : 
As  sharp  his  wits  for  cutting  knots 

Of  babble  he  abhorred. 

VII 

He  reverenced  her  name  and  line. 

Nor  other  merit  had 
Save  soldierwise  to  wait  her  sign. 

And  do  the  deed  she  bade. 

VIII 

He  saw  her  hand  jump  at  her  side 

Ere  royally  she  smiled 
On  Louis  and  his  fair  young  bride 

Where  courtly  ranks  defiled. 


214  BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

IX 

That  was  a  moment  when  a  shock 

Through  the  procession  ran, 
And  thrilled  the  plumes,  and  stayed  the  clock, 

Yet  smiled  Archduchess  Anne. 

X 

No  touch  gave  she  to  hound  in  leash, 

No  wink  to  sword  in  sheath : 
She  seemed  a  woman  scarce  of  flesh  j 

Above  it,  or  beneath. 

XI 

Old  Kraken  spied  with  kennelled  snarl, 

His  Lady  deemed  disgraced. 
He  rooted  as  on  burning  marl, 

When  out  of  Hall  he  paced. 

XII 

'T  was  seen  he  hammered  striding  legs. 

And  stopped,  and  strode  again. 
Now  Vengeance  has  a  brood  of  eggs, 

But  Patience  must  be  hen. 

XIII 

Too  slow  are  they  for  wrath  to  hatch, 

Too  hot  for  time  to  rear. 
Old  Kraken  kept  unwinking  watch  j 

He  marked  his  day  appear. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC  LIFE  215 

XIV 

He  neighed  a  laugh,  though  moods  were  rough 

With  standards  in  revolt : 
His  nostrils  took  the  news  for  snuff, 

His  smacking  lips  for  salt. 

XV 

Count  Louis'  wavy  cock's  plumes  led 

His  troops  of  black-haired  manes, 
A  rebel  j  and  old  Kraken  sped 

To  front  him  on  the  plains. 

XVI 

Then  camp  opposed  to  camp  did  they 

Fret  earth  with  panther  claws 
For  signal  of  a  bloody  day, 

Each  reading  from  the  Laws. 

XVII 

'Forefend  it,  heaven  ! '  Count  Louis  cried, 

'And  let  the  righteous  plead: 
My  country  is  a  willing  bride. 

Was  never  slave  decreed. 

XVIII 

*Not  we  for  thirst  of  blood  appeal 

To  sword  and  slaughter  curst ; 
We  have  God's  blessing  on  our  steel, 

Po  we  our  pleading  first.' 


216  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LITE 


XIX 


Count  Louis,  soul  of  chivalry, 
Put  trust  in  plighted  word  ; 

By  starlight  on  the  broad  brown  lea, 
To  bar  the  strife  he  spurred. 


zx 


Across  his  breast  a  crimson  spot, 

That  in  a  quiver  glowed, 
The  ruddy  crested  camp-fires  shot, 

As  he  to  darkness  rode, 

XXI 

He  rode  while  omens  called,  beware 
Old  Kraken's  pledge  of  faith ! 

A  smile  and  waving  hand  in  air, 
And  outward  flew  the  wraith. 

XXII 

Before  pale  morn  had  mixed  with  gold, 
His  army  roared,  and  chilled. 

As  men  who  have  a  woe  foretold, 
And  see  it  red  fulfilled. 

XXIII 

Away  and  to  his  young  wife  speed. 
And  say  tliat  Honour's  dead! 

Another  word  she  will  not  need 
To  bow  a  widow's  head. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF   TKAGIC   LIFE  217 

XXIV 

Old  Kraken  roped  his  white  moustache 

Eight,  left,  for  savage  glee  : 
—  To  swing  him  in  his  soldier's  sash, 

Were  kind  for  such  as  he  ! 

XXV 

Old  Kraken's  look  hard  Winter  wears 

When  sweeps  the  wild  snow-blast : 
He  had  the  hug  of  Arctic  bears 

For  captives  he  held  fast. 


II 


I 

Archduchess  Anne  sat  carved  in  frost, 
Shut  off  from  priest  and  spouse. 

Her  lips  were  locked,  her  arms  were  crossed, 
Her  eyes  were  in  her  brows. 

n 

One  hand  enclosed  a  paper  scroll. 

Held  as  a  strangled  asp. 
So  may  we  see  the  woman's  soul 

In  her  dire  tempter's  grasp. 

Ill 

Along  that  scroll  Count  Louis'  doom 
Throbbed  till  the  letters  flamed. 

She  saw  him  in  his  scornful  bloom. 
She  saw  him  chained  and  shamed. 

rv 

Around  that  scroll  Count  Louis'  fate 

Was  acted  to  her  stare, 
And  hate  in  love  and  love  in  hate 

Fought  fell  to  smite  or  spare. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LLFB  2 19 

Between  the  day  that  struck  her  old, 

And  this  black  star  of  days, 
Her  heart  swung  like  a  storm-bell  tolled 

Above  a  town  ablaze. 

VI 

His  beauty  pressed  to  intercede, 

His  beauty  served  him  ill. 
—  Not  Vengeance,  't  is  his  rebel's  deed, 

*T  is  Justice,  not  our  will  1 

VII 

Yet  who  had  sprung  to  life's  full  force 

A  breast  tliat  loveless  dried  ? 
But  who  had  sapped  it  at  the  source, 

With  scarlet  to  her  pride  1 

VIII 

He  brought  her  waning  heart  as  't  were 

New  message  from  the  skies. 
And  he  betrayed,  and  left  on  her 

The  burden  of  their  sighs. 

IX 

In  floods  her  tender  memories  poured ; 

They  foamed  with  waves  of  spite : 
She  crushed  them,  liigh  her  heart  outsoared, 

To  keep  her  mind  alight. 


220    BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 


—The  crawling  creature,  called  in  scorn 

A  woman !  —  with  this  pen 
We  sign  a  paper  that  may  warn 

His  crowing  fellowmen. 

zi 

—  We  read  them  lesson  of  a  power 
They  slight  who  do  us  wrong. 

That  bitter  hour  this  bitter  hour 
Provokes  j  by  turns  the  strong  I 

XII 

—  That  we  were  woman  once  is  known : 
That  we  are  Justice  now, 

Above  our  sex,  above  the  throne, 
Men  quaking  shall  avow. 

XIII 

Archduchess  Anne  ascending  flew, 
Her  heart  outsoared,  but  felt 

The  demon  of  her  sex  pursue, 
Incensing  or  to  melt. 

XIV 

Those  counterfloods  below  at  leap, 
Still  in  her  breast  blew  storm, 

And  farther  up  the  heavenly  steep, 
Wrestled  in  angels'  form. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LIFE  221 

XV 

To  disentangle  one  clear  wish  ^ 

Not  of  her  sex,  she  sought  j 
And  womanish  to  womanish, 

Discerned  in  lighted  thought. 

XVI 

With  Louis'  chance  it  went  not  well 

When  at  herself  she  raged ; 
A  woman,  of  whom  men  might  tell 

She  doted,  crazed  and  aged. 

XVII 

Or  else  enamoured  of  a  sweet 

Withdrawn,  a  vengeful  crone  I 
And  say,  what  figure  at  her  feet 

Is  this  that  utters  moan  ? 

XVIII 

The  Countess  Louis  from  her  head 

Drew  veil :  '  Great  Lady,  hear ! 
My  husband  deems  you  Justice  dread, 

I  know  you  Mercy  dear. 

XIX 

*His  error  upon  him  may  fall  j 

He  will  not  breathe  a  nay. 
I  am  his  helpless  mate  in  all, 

Except  for  grace  to  pray. 


222  BALLADS  AJ^D  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

zx 

'Perchance  on  me  his  choice  inclined, 

To  give  his  House  an  heir : 
I  had  not  marriage  with  his  mind, 

His  counsel  could  not  share. 

XXI 

*I  brought  no  portion  for  his  weal 

But  this  one  instinct  true, 
Which  bids  me  in  my  weakness  kneel. 

Archduchess  Anne,  to  you.* 

XXII 

The  frowning  Lady  uttered,  *  Forth  I' 

Her  look  forbade  delay : 
*It  is  not  mine  to  weigh  your  worth; 

Your  husband's  others  weigh. 

XXIII 

*  Hence  with  the  woman  in  your  speech, 

For  nothing  it  avails 
In  woman's  fashion  to  beseech 

Where  Justice  holds  the  scales.' 

XXIV 

Then  bent  and  went  the  lady  wan, 

Whose  girlishness  made  grey 
The  thouglits  that  through  Archduchess  Anne 

Shattered  like  stormy  spray. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC  Lli'E  223 

XXV 

Long  sat  she  there,  as  flame  that  strives 
To  hold  on  beating  wind  : 

—  His  wife  must  be  the  fool  of  wives, 
Or  cunningly  designed  I 

XXVI 

She  sat  until  the  tempest-pitch 
In  her  torn  bosom  fell ; 

—  His  wife  must  be  a  subtle  witch 
Or  else  God  loves  her  well  1 


Ill 

I 

Old  Kraken  read  a  missive  penned 

By  his  great  Lady's  hand. 
Her  condescension  called  him  friend, 

To  raise  the  crest  she  fanned. 


II 

Swiftly  to  where  he  lay  encamped 

It  flew,  yet  breathed  aloof 
From  woman's  feeling,  and  he  stamped 

A  heel  more  like  a  hoof. 


Ill 

She  wrote  of  Mercy  :  *  She  was  loth 

Too  hard  to  goad  a  foe.' 
He  stamped,  as  when  men  drive  an  oath 

Devils  transcribe  below. 


IV 

She  wrote  :  '  We  have  him  half  by  theft.' 

His  wrinkles  glistened  keen : 
And  see  the  Winter  storm-cloud  cleft 

To  lurid  skies  between  1 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TEAGIC   LIFE  225 

V 

When  read  old  Kraken  :  *  Christ  our  Guide/ 

His  eyes  were  spikes  of  spar : 
And  see  the  white  snow-storm  divide 

About  an  icy  star! 

VI 

*  She  trusted  him  to  understand/ 

She  wrote,  and  further  prayed 
That  policy  might  rule  the  land. 

Old  Kraken's  laughter  neighed. 

VII 

Her  words  he  took ;  her  nods  and  winks 

Treated  as  woman's  fog. 
The  man-dog  for  his  mistress  thinks, 

Not  less  her  faithful  dog. 

VIII 

She  hugged  a  cloak  old  Kraken  ripped ; 

Disguise  to  him  he  loathed. 
—Your  mercy,  madam,  shows  you  stripped, 

While  mine  will  keep  you  clothed. 

IX 

A  rough  ill-soldered  scar  in  haste 

He  rubbed  on  his  cheek-bone. 
—  Our  policy  the  man  shall  taste ; 

Our  mercy  shall  be  shown. 


226  BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TEAGIC  LIFE 

Z 

'Count  Louis,  honour  to  your  race 

Decrees  the  Council-hall : 
You  'scape  the  rope  by  special  grace, 

And  like  a  soldier  fall.' 

zi 

—I  am  a  man  of  many  sins, 

Who  for  one  virtue  die, 
Count  Louis  said.  —  They  play  at  shins, 

Who  kick,  was  the  reply. 

zn 

Uprose  the  day  of  crimson  sights 

The  day  without  a  God. 
At  morn  the  hero  said  Good-night: 

See  there  that  stain  on  sod  I 

xni 

At  morn  the  Countess  Louis  heard 
Young  light  sing  in  the  lark. 

Ere  eve  it  was  that  other  bird, 
Which  brings  the  starless  dark. 

XIV 

To  heaven  she  vowed  herself,  and  yearned 

Beside  her  lord  to  lie. 
Archduchess  Anne  on  Kraken  turned, 

All  white  as  a  dead  eye. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  227 

XV 

If  I  could  kill  thee !  shrieked  her  look : 

If  lightning  sprang  from  Will! 
An  oaken  head  old  Kraken  shook, 

And  she  might  thank  or  kill. 

XVI 

The  pride  that  fenced  her  heart  in  mail, 

By  mortal  pain  was  torn. 
Forth  from  her  bosom  leaped  a  wail, 

As  of  a  babe  new-born. 

XVII 

She  clad  herself  in  courtly  use, 

And  one  who  heard  them  prate. 
Had  said  they  differed  upon  views 

Where  statecraft  raised  debate. 

XVIII 

The  wretch  detested  must  she  trust, 

The  servant  master  own  : 
Confide  to  godless  cause  so  just, 

And  for  God's  blessing  moan. 

XIX 

Austerely  she  her  heart  kept  down. 

Her  woman's  tongue  was  mute 
When  voice  of  People,  voice  of  Crown, 

In  cannon  held  dispute. 


228  BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

XX 

The  Crown  on  seas  of  blood,  like  swine, 
Swam  forefoot  at  the  throat : 

It  drank  of  its  dear  veins  for  wine, 
Enough  if  it  might  float  I 

XXI 

It  sank  with  piteous  yelp,  resurged 

Electrical  with  fear. 
O  had  she  on  old  Kraken  urged 

Her  word  of  mercy  clear  1 

XXII 

0  had  they  with  Count  Louis  been 

Accordant  in  his  plea! 
Cursed  are  the  women  vowed  to  screen 

A  heart  that  all  can  see  1 

XXIII 

The  godless  drove  unto  a  goal 
Was  worse  than  vile  defeat. 

Did  vengeance  prick  Count  Louis'  soul 
They  dressed  him  luscious  meat. 

XXIV 

Worms  will  the  faithless  find  their  lies 
In  the  close  treasure-chest. 

Without  a  God  no  day  can  rise, 
Though  it  should  slay  our  best. 


BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  229 

XXV 

The  Crown  it  furled  a  draggled  flag, 

It  sheathed  a  broken  blade. 
Behold  its  triumph  in  the  hag 

That  lives  with  looks  decayed  I 

XXVI 

And  lo,  the  man  of  oaken  head, 

Of  soldier's  honour  bare. 
He  fled  his  land,  but  most  he  fled 

His  Lady's  frigid  stare. 

XXVII 

Judged  by  the  issue  we  discern 

God's  blessing,  and  the  bane. 
Count  Louis'  dust  would  fill  an  urn, 

His  deeds  are  waving  grain. 

XXVIII 

And  she  that  helped  to  slay,  yet  bade 

To  spare  the  fated  man, 
Great  were  her  errors,  but  she  had 

Great  heart,  Archduchess  Anne. 


THE  SONG  OF  THEODOLINDA. 

I 

Queen  Theodolind  has  built 
In  the  earth  a  furnace-bed  : 
There  the  Traitor  Nail  that  spilt 
Blood  of  the  anointed  Head, 
Red  of  heat,  resolves  in  shame  : 
White  of  heat,  awakes  to  flame. 
Beat,  beat !  white  of  heat, 
Eed  of  heat,  beat,  beat  I 

n 

Mark  the  skeleton  of  fire 
Lightening  from  its  thunder-roof: 
So  comes  this  that  saw  expire 
Him  we  love,  for  our  behoof ! 
Hed  of  heat,  0  white  of  heat, 
This  from  off  the  Cross  we  greet. 

ni 

Brown-cowled  hammermen  around 
Nerve  their  naked  arms  to  strike 
Death  with  Resurrection  crowned, 
Each  upon  that  cruel  spike. 
Red  of  heat  the  furnace  leaps, 
White  of  heat  transfigured  sleeps. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TKAGIC   LIFE  231 


Hard  against  the  furnace  core 
Holds  the  Queen  her  streaming  eyes: 
Lo !  that  thing  of  piteous  gore 
In  the  lap  of  radiance  lies, 
Red  of  heat,  as  when  He  takes. 
White  of  heat,  whom  earth  forsakes. 


Forth  with  it,  and  crushing  ring 
Iron  hymns,  for  men  to  hear 
Echoes  of  the  deeds  that  sting 
Earth  into  its  graves,  and  fear! 
Red  of  heat,  He  maketh  thus, 
White  of  heat,  a  crown  of  us. 


VI 

This  that  killed  Thee,  kissed  Thee,  Lord! 
Touched  Thee,  and  we  touch  it :  dear, 
Dark  it  is  ;  adored,  abhorred : 
Vilest,  yet  most  sainted  here. 
Red  of  heat,  0  white  of  heat, 
In  it  hell  and  heaven  meet. 


232  BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF   TKAGIC   LIFE 


VII 

I  behold  our  morning  day 
When  they  chased  Him  out  with  rods 
Up  to  where  this  traitor  lay 
Thirsting  j  and  the  blood  was  God's ! 
Red  of  heat,  it  shall  be  pressed, 
White  of  heat,  once  on  my  breast  I 


VIII 

Quick !  the  reptile  in  me  shrieks. 
Not  the  soul.     Again  ;  the  Cross 
Burn  there.     Oh  !  this  pain  it  wreaks 
Rapture  is :  pain  is  not  loss. 
Red  of  heat,  the  tooth  of  Death, 
White  of  heat,  has  caught  my  breath. 


XX 

Brand  me,  bite  me,  bitter  thing  I 
Thus  He  felt,  and  thus  I  am 
One  with  Him  in  suffering, 
One  with  Him  in  bliss,  the  Lamb. 
Red  of  heat,  0  white  of  heat. 
Thus  is  bitterness  made  sweet. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC   LLb^E  233 


Now  am  I,  who  bear  that  stamp 
Scorched  in  me,  the  living  sign 
Sole  on  earth  —  the  lighted  lamp 
Of  the  dreadful  day  divine. 
White  of  heat,  beat  on  it  fast ! 
Bed  of  heat,  its  shape  has  passed. 


Out  in  angry  sparks  they  fly, 
They  that  sentenced  Him  to  bleed: 
Pontius  and  his  troop :  they  die, 
Damned  for  ever  for  the  deed  I 
White  of  heat  in  vain  they  soar: 
Ked  of  heat  they  strew  the  floor. 


XII 

Fury  on  it !  have  its  debt! 
Thunder  on  the  Hill  accurst, 
Golgotha,  be  ye !  and  sweat 
Blood,  and  thirst  the  Passion's  thirst. 
Red  of  heat  and  white  of  heat. 
Champ  it  like  fierce  teeth  that  eat. 


234  BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LITE 


XIII 


Strike  it  as  the  ages  crush 
Towers !  for  while  a  shape  is  seen 
I  am  rivalled.     Quench  its  blush, 
Devil !    But  it  crowns  me  Queen, 
Eed  of  heat,  as  none  before, 
White  of  heat,  the  circlet  wore. 


XIV 

Lowly  I  will  be,  and  quail. 
Crawling,  with  a  beggar's  hand : 
On  my  breast  the  branded  Nail, 
On  my  head  the  iron  band. 
Red  of  heat,  are  none  so  base  ! 
White  of  heat,  none  know  such  grace ! 


XV 

In  their  heaven  the  sainted  hosts, 
Robed  in  violet  unfleckcd, 
Gaze  on  humankind  as  ghosts : 
I  draw  down  a  ray  direct. 
Red  of  heat,  across  my  brow. 
White  of  heat,  I  touch  Him  now. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC   LIFE  235 


XVI 

Robed  in  violet,  robed  in  gold, 
Kobed  in  pearl,  they  make  our  dawn. 
What  am  I  to  them  ?     Behold 
What  ye  are  to  me,  and  fawn. 
Red  of  heat,  be  humble,  ye  ! 
White  of  heat,  0  teach  it  me ! 


XVII 

Martyrs!  hungry  peaks  in  air. 
Rent  with  lightnings,  clad  with  snow, 
Crowned  with  stars  !  you  strip  me  bare, 
Pierce  me,  shame  me,  stretch  me  low, 
Red  of  heat,  but  it  may  be,      * 
White  of  heat,  some  envy  me! 


XVIII 

O  poor  enviers !     God's  own  gifts 
Have  a  devil  for  the  weak. 
Yea,  the  very  force  that  lifts 
Finds  the  vessel's  secret  leak. 
Red  of  heat,  I  rise  o'er  all : 
White  of  heat,  I  faint,  I  fall. 


236  BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 


SIX 

Those  old  Martyrs  sloughed  their  pride, 

Taking  humbleness  like  mirth. 

I  am  to  His  Glory  tied, 

I  that  witness  Him  on  earth! 

Red  of  heat,  my  pride  of  dust, 

White  of  heat,  feeds  fire  in  trust. 


XX 

Kindle  me  to  constant  fire, 
Lest  the  nail  be  but  a  nail ! 
Give  me  wings  of  great  desire, 
Lest  I  look  within,  and  fail! 
Ked  of  heat,  the  furnace  light, 
White  of  heat,  fix  on  my  sight. 


XXI 

Never  for  the  Chosen  peace ! 
Know,  by  me  tormented  know. 
Never  shall  the  wrestling  cease 
Till  with  our  outlasting  Foe 
Red  of  heat  to  white  of  heat, 
Eoll  we  to  the  Godhead's  feet! 
Beat,  beat !  white  of  lieat, 
Red  of  heat,  beat,  beat! 


A  PEEACHING  FKOM  A  SPANISH  BALLAD 

I 

Ladies  who  in  chains  of  wedlock 
Chafe  at  an  unequal  yoke, 
Not  to  nightingales  give  hearing; 
Better  this,  the  raven's  croak. 

II 

Down  the  Prado  strolled  my  seigneur, 
Arm  at  lordly  bow  on  hip, 
Fingers  trimming  his  moustachios, 
Eyes  for  pirate  fellowship. 

ni 

Home  sat  she  that  owned  him  master ; 
Like  the  flower  bent  to  ground 
Rain-surcharged  and  sun-forsaken ; 
Heedless  of  her  hair  unbound. 

IV 

Sudden  at  her  feet  a  lover 
Palpitating  knelt  and  wooed; 
Seemed  a  very  gift  from  heaven 
To  the  starved  of  common  food. 


238  BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 


Love  me  ?  ste  his  vows  repeated : 
Fiery  vows  oft  sung  and  thrummed : 
Wondered,  as  on  earth  a  stranger ; 
Thirsted,  trusted,  and  succumbed. 

VI 

0  beloved  youth !  my  lover ! 
Mine  !  my  lover  /  ta"ke  my  life 
Wholly  :  thine  in  soul  and  body, 
By  this  oath  of  more  than  wife ! 

VII 

Know  me  for  no  helpless  woman ; 
Nay,  nor  coward,  though  I  sink 
Awed  beside  thee,  like  an  infant 
Learning  shame  ere  it  can  think. 

VIII 

Swing  me  hence  to  do  thee  service, 
Be  thy  succour,  prove  thy  shield; 
Heaven  will  hear  !  —  in  house  thy  handmaid, 
Squire  upon  the  battlefield. 

IX 

At  my  breasts  I  cool  thy  footsoles  ; 
Wine  I  pour,  I  dress  thy  meats  ; 
Humbly,  when  my  lord  it  pleaseth, 
Lie  with  him  on  perfuiivMl  slieets: 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TliAGlC   LIFE  239 


Pray  for  him,  my  blood's  dear  fountain. 
While  he  sleeps,  and  watch  his  yawn 
In  that  wakening  babelike  moment, 
Sweeter  to  my  thought  than  dawn  !  — 

XI 

Thundered  then  her  lord  of  thunders ; 
Burst  the  door,  and  flashing  sword, 
Loud  disgorged  the  woman's  title : 
Condemnation  in  one  word. 

XII 

Grand  by  righteous  wrath  transfigured, 
Towers  the  husband  who  provides 
In  his  person  judge  and  witness. 
Death's  black  doorkeeper  besides  ! 

XIII 

Round  his  head  the  ancient  terrors, 
Conjured  of  the  stronger's  law, 
Circle,  to  abash  the  creature 
Daring  twist  beneath  his  paw. 

XIV 

How  though  he  hath  squandered  Honour  I 
High  of  Honour  let  him  scold  : 
Gilding  of  the  man's  possession, 
'T  is  the  woman's  coin  of  gold. 


240    BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 


XV 

She  inheriting  from  many- 
Bleeding  mothers  bleeding  sense, 
Feels  'twixt  her  and  sharp-fanged  nature 
Honour  first  did  plant  the  fence. 

XVI 

Nature,  that  so  shrieks  for  justice  ; 
Honour's  thirst,  that  blood  will  slake  ; 
These  are  women's  riddles,  roughly 
Mixed  to  write  them  saint  or  snake. 

XVII 

Never  nature  cherished  woman : 
She  throughout  the  sexes'  war 
Serves  as  temptress  and  betrayer, 
Favouring  man,  the  muscular. 

XVIII 

Lureful  is  she,  bent  for  folly; 
Doating  on  the  child  which  crows  : 
Yours  to  teach  him  grace  in  fealty, 
What  the  bloom  is,  what  the  rose. 

XIX 

Hard  the  task  :  your  prison-chamber 
Widens  not  for  lifted  latch 
Till  the  giant  thews  and  sinews 
Meet  their  Godlike  overmatch. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE  241 

Read  that  riddle,  scorning  pity's 
Tears,  of  cockatrices  shed  : 
When  the  heart  is  vowed  for  freedom, 
Captaincy  it  yields  to  head. 

XXI 

Meanwhile  you,  freaked  nature's  martyrs, 
Honour's  army,  flower  and  weed, 
Gentle  ladies,  wedded  ladies. 
See  for  you  this  fair  one  bleed. 

XXII 

Sole  stood  her  offence,  she  faltered ; 
Prayed  her  lord  the  youth  to  spare ; 
Prayed  that  in  the  orange  garden 
She  might  lie,  and  ceased  her  prayer. 

XXIII 

Then  commending  to  all  women 
Chastity,  her  breasts  she  laid 
Bare  unto  the  self-avenger. 
Man  in  metal  was  the  blade. 


16 


THE  YOUNG  PEINCESS 

A  BALLAD  OF  OLD  LAWS  OF  LOVE 


When  the  Soutli  sang  like  a  nightingale 

Above  a  bower  in  May, 
The  training  of  Love's  vine  of  flame 
Was  writ  in  laws,  for  lord  and  dame 

To  say  their  yea  and  nay. 


II 

When  the  South  sang  like  a  nightingale 

Across  the  flowering  night, 
And  lord  and  dame  held  gentle  sport, 
There  came  a  young  princess  to  Court, 
A  frost  of  beauty  white. 

Ill 

The  South  sang  like  a  nightingale 
To  thaw  her  glittering  dream : 
No  vine  of  Love  her  bosom  gave, 
She  drank  no  wine  of  Love,  but  grave 
She  held  them  to  Love's  theme. 


BALLADS  AM)  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LliE  243 

IV 

The  South  grew  all  a  nightingale 

Beneath  a  moon  unmoved : 
Like  the  banner  of  war  she  led  them  on ; 
She  left  them  to  lie,  like  the  light  that  has  gone 

From  wine-cups  overproved. 


When  the  South  was  a  fervid  nightingale, 

And  she  a  chilling  moon, 
'T  was  pity  to  see  on  the  garden  swards, 
Against  Love's  laws,  those  rival  lords 

As  willow-wands  lie  strewn. 

VI 

The  South  had  throat  of  a  nightingale 

For  her,  the  young  princess  : 
She  gave  no  vine  of  Love  to  rear, 
Love's  wine  drank  not,  yet  bent  her  ear 
To  themes  of  Love  no  less. 


n 


The  lords  of  the  Court  they  sighed  heart-sick, 

Heart-free  Lord  Dusiote  laughed : 
I  prize  her  no  more  than  a  fling  o'  the  dice, 
But,  or  shame  to  my  manhood,  a  lady  of  ice. 
We  master  her  by  craft  I 


II 

Heart-sick  the  lords  of  joyance  yawned, 

Lord  Dusiote  laughed  heart-free : 
I  count  her  as  much  as  a  crack  o'  my  thumb, 
But,  or  shame  of  my  manhood,  to  me  she  shall  come 

Like  the  bird  to  roost  in  the  tree  1 


III 

At  dead  of  night  when  the  palace-guard 

Had  passed  the  measured  rounds, 
The  young  princess  awoke  to  feel 
A  shudder  of  blood  at  the  crackle  of  steel 
Within  the  garden-bounds. 


BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  245 

IV 

It  ceased,  and  she  thought  of  whom  was  need, 

The  friar  or  the  leech  j 
When  lo,  stood  her  tirewoman  breathless  by; 
Lord  Dusiote,  madam,  to  death  is  nigh. 

Of  you  he  would  have  speech. 


He  prays  you  of  your  gentleness, 
To  light  him  to  his  dark  end. 

The  princess  rose,  and  forth  she  went. 

For  charity  was  her  intent, 
Devoutly  to  befriend. 


VI 

Lord  Dusiote  hung  on  his  good  squire's  arm, 

The  priest  beside  him  knelt : 
A  weeping  handkerchief  was  pressed 
To  stay  the  red  flood  at  his  breast. 

And  bid  cold  ladies  melt. 


VII 

0  lady,  though  you  are  ice  to  men, 

All  pure  to  heaven  as  light 
Within  the  dew  within  the  flower, 
Of  you  't  is  whispered  that  love  has  power 

When  secret  is  the  night. 


246  BAIiLADS   AHT>  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 


VIII 

I  have  silenced  tlie  slanderers,  peace  to  their  souls  I 

Save  one  was  too  cunning  for  me. 
I  die,  whose  love  is  late  avowed, 
He  lives,  who  boasts  the  lily  has  bowed 

To  the  oath  of  a  bended  knee. 


IX 

Lord  Dusiote  drew  breath  with  pain, 
And  she  with  pain  drew  breath: 

On  him  she  looked,  on  his  like  above ; 

She  flew  in  the  folds  of  a  marvel  of  love, 
Eevealed  to  pass  to  death. 


You  are  dying,  0  great-hearted  lord. 
You  are  dying  for  me,  she  cried ; 
O  take  my  hand,  0  take  my  kiss, 
And  take  of  your  right  for  love  like  this, 
The  vow  that  plights  me  bride. 


XI 

She  bade  the  priest  recite  his  words 
Wliilo  hand  in  hand  were  they, 
Lord  Dusiote's  soul  to  waft  to  bliss  j 
He  had  her  hand,  her  vow,  her  kiss, 
And  his  body  was  borne  away. 


Ill 


Lord  Dusiote  sprang  from  priest  and  squire ; 

He  gazed  at  her  lighted  room  : 
The  laughter  in  his  heart  grew  slack  ; 
He  knew  not  the  force  that  pushed  him  back 

From  her  and  the  morn  in  bloom. 


II 

Like  a  drowned  man's  length  on  the  strong  flood-tide^ 

Like  the  shade  of  a  bird  in  the  sun, 
He  fled  from  his  lady  whom  he  might  claim 
As  ghost,  and  who  made  the  daybeams  flame 
To  scare  what  he  had  done. 


Ill 

There  was  grief  at  Court  for  one  so  gay, 
Though  he  was  a  lord  less  keen 

For  training  the  vine  than  at  vintage-press  ; 

But  in  her  soul  the  young  princess 
Believed  that  love  had  been. 


248  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 


IV 

Lord  Dusiote  fled  the  Court  and  land, 

He  crossed  the  woeful  seas, 
Till  his  traitorous  doing  seemed  clearer  to  burn, 
And  the  lady  beloved  drew  his  heart  for  return, 

Like  the  banner  of  war  in  the  breeze. 


He  neared  the  palace,  he  spied  the  Court, 

And  music  he  heard,  and  they  told 
Of  foreign  lords  arrived  to  bring 
The  nuptial  gifts  of  a  bridegroom  king 
To  the  princess  grave  and  cold. 


VI 

The  masque  and  the  dance  were  cloud  on  wave. 

And  down  the  masque  and  the  dance 
Lord  Dusiote  stepped  from  dame  to  dame. 
And  to  the  young  princess  he  came, 
With  a  bow  and  a  burning  glance. 


VII 

Do  you  take  a  new  husband  to-morrow,  lady  ? 

She  shrank  as  at  prick  of  steel. 
Must  the  first  yield  place  to  the  second,  he  sighed. 
Her  eyes  were  like  the  grave  that  is  wide 

For  the  corpse  from  head  to  heel. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  249 


VIII 


My  lady,  my  love,  that  little  hand 
Has  mine  ringed  fast  in  plight : 

I  bear  for  your  lips  a  lawful  thirst, 

And  as  justly  the  second  should  follow  the  first, 
I  come  to  your  door  this  night. 


IX 

If  a  ghost  should  come  a  ghost  will  go : 

No  more  the  lady  said, 
Save  that  ever  when  he  in  wrath  began 
To  swear  by  the  faith  of  a  living  man, 

She  answered  him,  You  are  dead. 


>.v. 


IV 


The  soft  night-wind  went  laden  to  death 
With  smell  of  the  orange  in  flower ; 

The  light  leaves  prattled  to  neighbour  ears  ; 

The  bird  of  the  passion  sang  over  his  tears  ; 
The  night  named  hour  oy  hour. 


Sang  loud,  sang  low  the  rapturous  bird 

Till  the  yellow  hour  was  nigh, 
Behind  the  folds  of  a  darker  cloud  : 
He  chuckled,  he  sobbed,  alow,  aloud ; 
The  voice  between  earth  and  sky. 


in 

0  will  you,  -will  you,  women  are  weak  j 

The  proudest  are  yielding  mates 
For  a  forward  foot  and  a  tongue  of  fire : 
So  thought  Lord  Dusiote's  trusty  squire, 
At  watch  by  the  palace-gates. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC  LIFE  251 


IV 

The  song  of  the  bird  was  wine  in  his  blood, 

And  woman  the  odorous  bloom  : 
His  master's  great  adventure  stirred 
Within  him  to  mingle  the  bloom  and  bird, 
And  morn  ere  its  coming  illume. 


Beside  him  strangely  a  piece  of  the  dark 

Had  moved,  and  the  undertones 
Of  a  priest  in  prayer,  like  a  cavernous  wave. 
He  heard,  as  were  there  a  soul  to  save 
For  urgency  now  in  the  groans. 

VI 

No  priest  was  hired  for  the  play  this  night : 
And  the  squire  tossed  head  like  a  deer 
At  sniff  of  the  tainted  wind  ;  he  gazed 
Where  cresset-lamps  in  a  door  were  raised, 
Belike  on  a  passing  bier. 


VII 

All  cloaked  and  masked,  with  naked  blades, 

That  flashed  of  a  judgement  done, 
The  lords  of  the  Court,  from  the  palace-door, 
Came  issuing  silently,  bearers  four. 
And  flat  on  their  shoulders  one. 


252  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LLFE 


VIII 


They  marclied  the  body  to  squire  and  priest, 
They  lowered  it  sad  to  earth : 

The  priest  they  gave  the  burial  dole, 

Bade  wrestle  hourly  for  his  soul, 
Who  was  a  lord  of  worth. 


IX 

One  said,  farewell  to  a  gallant  knight ! 

And  one,  but  a  restless  ghost ! 
*T  is  a  year  and  a  day  since  in  this  place 
He  died,  sped  high  by  a  lady  of  grace, 

To  join  the  blissful  host. 


Not  vainly  on  us  she  charged  her  cause, 

The  lady  whom  we  revere 
For  faith  in  the  mask  of  a  love  untrue 
To  the  Love  we  honour,  the  Love  her  due, 

The  Love  we  have  vowed  to  rear. 


zi 

A  trap  for  the  sweet  tooth,  lures  for  the  light. 

For  the  fortress  defiant  a  mine  : 
Right  well!     But  not  in  the  South,  princess. 
Shall  the  lady  snared  of  her  nobleness 
Ever  shamed  or  a  captive  pine. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC  LIFE  253 


XII 

When  the  South  had  voice  of  a  nightingale 

Above  a  Maying  bower, 
On  the  heights  of  Love  walked  radiant  peers ; 
The  bird  of  the  passion  sang  over  his  tears 

To  the  breeze  and  the  orange-flower. 


KING  HARALD'S  TRANCE 


Sword  in  length  a  reaping-hook  amain 
Harald  sheared  his  field,  blood  up  to  shank : 

'Mid  the  swathes  of  slain, 

First  at  moonrise  drank. 


II 

Thereof  hunger,  as  for  meats  the  knife, 
Pricked  his  ribs,  in  one  sharp  spur  to  reach 

Home  and  his  young  wife, 

Nigh  the  sea-ford  beach. 

Ill 

After  battle  keen  to  feed  was  he : 

Smoking  flesh  the  thresher  washed  down  fast, 

Like  an  angry  sea 

Ships  from  keel  to  mast. 

IV 

Name  us  glory,  singer,  name  us  pride 
Matcliing  Ilarald's  in  his  deeds  of  strength; 
Chiefs,  wife,  sword  by  side, 
Foemen  stretched  their  length  1 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LIFE  255 


Half  a  winter  night  the  toasts  hurrahed, 
Crowned  him,  clothed  him,  trumpeted  him  high, 

Till  awink  he  bade 

Wife  to  chamber  fly. 

VI 

Twice  the  sun  had  mounted,  twice  had  sunk, 
Ere  his  ears  took  sound ;  he  lay  for  dead ; 

Mountain  on  his  trunk, 

Ocean  on  his  head. 

VII 

Clamped  to  couch,  his  fiery  hearing  sucked 
Whispers  that  at  heart  made  iron-clang: 

Here  fool-women  clucked. 

There  men  held  harangue. 

VIII 

Burial  to  fit  their  lord  of  war, 

They  decreed  him:  hailed  the  kingling:  ha! 

Hateful !  but  this  Thor 

Failed  a  weak  lamb's  baa. 

IX 

King  they  hailed  a  branchlet,  shaped  to  fare, 
Weighted  so,  like  quaking  shingle  spume, 

When  his  blood's  own  heir 

Kipened  in  the  wombl 


256  BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

Still  he  heard,  and  doglike,  hoglike,  ran 
Nose  of  hearing  till  his  blind  sight  saw : 

Woman  stood  with  man 

Mouthing  low,  at  paw. 

XI 

Woman,  man,  they  mouthed;  they  spake  a  thing 
Armed  to  split  a  mountain,  sunder  seas : 

Still  the  frozen  king 

Lay  and  felt  him  freeze. 

XII 

Doglike,  hoglike,  horselike  now  he  raced, 
Riderless,  in  ghost  across  a  ground 

Flint  of  breast,  blank-faced, 

Past  the  fleshly  bound. 

XIII 

Smell  of  brine  his  nostrils  filled  with  might: 
Nostrils  quickened  eyelids,  eyelids  hand: 
Hand  for  sword  at  right 
Groped,  the  great  haft  spanned. 

XIV 

Wonder  struck  to  ice  his  people's  eyes : 
Him  they  saw,  the  prone  upon  the  bier. 

Sheer  from  backbone  rise. 

Sword  uplifting  peer. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF   TKAGIC   Lli^E  257 

XV 

Sitting  did  he  breathe  against  the  blade, 
Standing  kiss  it  for  that  proof  of  life : 

Strode,  as  natters  wade, 

Straightway  to  his  wife. 

XVI 

Her  he  eyed :  his  judgement  was  one  word, 
Foulbed !  and  she  fell :  the  blow  clove  two. 

Fearful  for  the  third, 

All  their  breath  indrew. 

XVII 

Morning  danced  along  the  waves  to  beach ; 

Dumb  his  chiefs  fetched  breath  for  what  might  hap; 

Glassily  on  each 

Stared  the  iron  cap. 

XVIII 

Sudden,  as  it  were  a  monster  oak 
Split  to  yield  a  limb  by  stress  of  heat, 

Strained  he,  staggered,  broke 

Doubled  at  their  feet. 


WHIMPER  OF  SYMPATHY 

Hawk  or  shrike  has  done  this  deed 
Of  downy  feathers  :  rueful  sight  1 
Sweet  sentimentalist,  invite 
Your  bosom's  Power  to  intercede. 

So  hard  it  seems  that  one  must  bleed 
Because  another  needs  will  bite ! 
All  round  we  find  cold  Nature  slight 
The  feelings  of  the  totter-knee'd. 

0  it  were  pleasant,  with  you 

To  fly  from  this  tussle  of  foes, 

The  shambles,  the  charnel,  the  wrinkle! 

To  dwell  in  yon  dribble  of  dew 

On  the  cheek  of  your  sovereign  rose, 

And  live  the  young  life  of  a  twinkle. 


YOUNG  EEYNAED 


Gracefullest  leaper,  the  dappled  fox-cub 
Curves  over  brambles  with  berries  and  buds, 
Light  as  a  bubble  that  flies  from  the  tub, 
Whisked  by  the  laundry-wife  out  of  her  suds. 
Wavy  he  comes,  woolly,  all  at  his  ease, 
Elegant,  fashioned  to  foot  with  the  deuce ; 
Nature's  own  prince  of  the  dance  :  then  he  sees 
Me,  and  retires  as  if  making  excuse. 

II 

Never  closed  minuet  courtlier!     Soon 
Cub-hunting  troops  were  abroad,  and  a  yelp 
Told  of  sure  scent :  ere  the  stroke  upon  noon 
Eeynard  the  younger  lay  far  beyond  help. 
Wild,  my  poor  friend,  has  the  fate  to  be  chased ; 
Civil  will  conquer :  were  't  other  't  were  worse, 
Fair,  by  the  flushed  early  morning  embraced, 
Haply  you  live  a  day  longer  in  verse. 


MANFRED 


Projected  from  the  bilious  Childe, 

This  clatterjaw  his  foot  could  set 

On  Alps,  without  a  breast  beguiled 

To  glow  in  shedding  rascal  sweat. 

Somewhere  about  his  grinder  teeth, 

He  mouthed  of  thoughts  that  grilled  beneath, 

And  summoned  Nature  to  her  feud 

With  bile  &  buskin  Attitude. 


Considerably  was  the  world 
Of  spinsterdom  and  clergy  racked 
While  he  his  hinted  horrors  hurled, 
And  she  pictorially  attacked. 
A  duel  hugeous.     Tragic  ?     Ho  I 
The  cities,  not  the  mountains,  blow 
Such  bladders ;  in  their  shapes  confessed 
An  after-dinner's  indigest. 


HERNANI 

Cistercians  might  crack  their  sides 
With  laughter,  and  exemption  get, 
At  sight  of  heroes  clasping  brides, 
And  hearing  —  0  the  horn!  the  horn! 
The  horn  of  their  obstructive  debt ! 

But  quit  the  stage,  that  note  applies 
For  sermons  cosmopolitan, 
Hernani.     Have  we  filched  our  prize. 
Forgetting  .  .  .?     0  the  horn!  the  horn  1 
The  horn  of  the  Old  Gentleman! 


THE  NUPTIALS  OF  ATTILA 


Flat  as  to  an  eagle's  eye, 

Earth  hung  under  Attila. 
Sign  for  carnage  gave  he  none. 
In  the  peace  of  his  disdain, 
Sun  and  rain,  and  rain  and  sun, 
Cherished  men  to  wax  again, 
Crawl,  and  in  their  manner  die. 
On  his  people  stood  a  frost. 
Like  the  charger  cut  in  stone, 
Rearing  stiff,  the  warrior  host, 
Which  had  life  from  him  alone, 
Craved  the  trumpet's  eager  note, 
As  the  bridled  earth  the  Spring. 
Rusty  was  the  trumpet's  throat. 
He  let  chief  and  prophet  rave  ; 
Venturous  earth  around  hira  string 
Threads  of  grass  and  slender  rye, 
Wave  them,  and  untrampled  wave. 
O  for  the  time  when  God  did  cry, 
Eye  and  have,  my  Attila! 


BAIiLADS  Amy  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE  263 


II 

Scorn  of  conquest  filled  like  sleep 
Him  that  drank  of  havoc  deep 
When  the  Green  Cat  pawed  the  globe : 
When  the  horsemen  from  his  bow 
Shot  in  sheaves  and  made  the  foe 
Crimson  fringes  of  a  robe, 
Trailed  o'er  towns  and  fields  in  woe; 
When  they  streaked  the  rivers  red, 
When  the  saddle  was  the  bed. 
Attila,  my  Attila! 

Ill 

He  breathed  peace  and  pulled  a  flower. 

Eye  and  have,  my  Attila  ! 
This  was  the  damsel  Ildico, 
Kich  in  bloom  until  that  hour : 
Shyer  than  the  forest  doe 
Twinkling  slim  through  branches  green. 
Yet  the  shyest  shall  be  seen. 

Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 

IV 

Seen  of  Attila,  desired, 
She  was  led  to  him  straightway : 
Kadiantly  was  she  attired ; 
Rifled  lands  were  her  array, 
Jewels  bled  from  weeping  crowns, 
Gold  of  woeful  fields  and  towns. 


26-4     BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

She  stood  pallid  in  the  light. 
How  she  walked,  how  withered  white, 
From  the  blessing  to  the  board, 
She  who  should  have  proudly  blushed 
Women  whispered,  asking  why, 
Hinting  of  a  youth,  and  hushed. 
Was  it  terror  of  her  lord  ? 
Was  she  childish  ?  was  she  sly  ? 
Was  it  the  bright  mantle's  dye 
Drained  her  blood  to  hues  of  grief 
Like  the  ash  that  shoots  the  spark  ? 
See  the  green  tree  all  in  leaf : 
See  the  green  tree  stripped  of  bark !  — 
Make  the  bed  for  Attilal 


Round  the  banquet-table's  load 
Scores  of  iron  horsemen  rode ; 
Chosen  warriors,  keen  and  hard ; 
Grain  of  threshing  battle-dints  ; 
Attila's  fierce  body-guard. 
Smelling  war  like  fire  in  flints. 
Grant  them  peace  be  fugitive ! 
Iron-capped  and  iron-heeled, 
Each  against  his  fellow's  shield 
Smote  the  spear-head,  shouting,  Live, 

Attila!  my  Attila! 
Eagle,  eagle  of  our  breed, 
Eagle,  beak  the  lamb,  and  feed  I 
Have  her,  and  unloasli  us  !  live, 

Attilal  mj  Attilal 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC  LIFE  265 


VI 

He  was  of  the  blood  to  shine 
Bronze  in  joy,  like  skies  that  scorch. 
Beaming  with  the  goblet  wine 
In  the  wavering  of  the  torch, 
Looked  he  backward  on  his  bride. 

Eye  and  have,  my  Attila ! 
Fair  in  her  wide  robe  was  she  : 
Where  the  robe  and  vest  divide, 
Fair  she  seemed  surpassingly  : 
Soft,  yet  vivid  as  the  stream 
Danube  rolls  in  the  moonbeam 
Through  rock-barriers  :  but  she  smiled 
Never,  she  sat  cold  as  salt : 
Open-mouthed  as  a  young  child 
Wondering  with  a  mind  at  fault. 

Make  the  bed  for  Attila ! 

VII 

Under  the  thin  hoop  of  gold 
Whence  in  waves  her  hair  outrolled, 
'Twixt  her  brows  the  women  saw 
Shadows  of  a  vulture's  claw 
Gript  in  flight :  strange  knots  that  sped 
Closing  and  dissolving  aye  : 
Such  as  wicked  dreams  betray 
When  pale  dawn  creeps  o'er  the  bed. 
They  might  show  the  common  pang 
Known  to  virgins,  in  whom  dread 


266  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIPE 

Hunts  their  bliss  like  famished  hounds  j 
While  the  chiefs  with  roaring  rounds 
Tossed  her  to  her  lord,  and  sang 
Praise  of  him  whose  hand  was  large^ 
Cheers  for  beauty  brought  to  yield, 
Chirrups  of  the  trot  afield, 
Hurrahs  of  the  battle-charge. 

viir 

Those  rock-faces  hung  with  weed 
Keddened  :  their  great  days  of  speed, 
Slaughter,  triumph,  flood  and  flame. 
Like  a  jealous  frenzy  wrought, 
Scoffed  at  them  and  did  them  shame, 
Quafiing  idle,  conquering  naught. 
0  for  the  time  when  God  decreed 

Earth  the  prey  of  Attila  t 
God  called  on  thee  in  his  wrath, 
Trample  it  to  mire  !     'T  was  done. 
Swift  as  Danube  clove  our  path 
Down  from  East  to  Western  sun. 
Huns  I  behold  your  pasture,  gaze. 
Take,  our  king  said  :  heel  to  flank 
(Whisper  it,  the  warhorse  neighs  I) 
Forth  we  drove,  and  blood  we  drank 
Fresh  as  dawn-dew  :  earth  was  ours : 
Men  were  flocks  we  lashed  and  spurned : 
Fast  as  windy  flame  devours, 
Flame  along  the  wind,  we  burned. 
Arrow,  javelin,  spear,  and  sword  I 
Here  the  snows  and  there  the  plains  j 


BALLADS   AND   TO  EMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  2G7 

On!  our  signal :  onward  poured 
Torrents  of  the  tightened  reins, 
Foaming  over  vine  and  corn 
Hot  against  the  city-wall. 
Whisper  it,  you  sound  a  horn 
To  the  grey  beast  in  the  stall ! 
Yea,  he  whinnies  at  a  nod. 
0  for  sound  of  the  trumpet-notes ! 
0  for  the  time  when  thunder-shod, 
He  that  scarce  can  munch  his  oats, 
Hung  on  the  peaks,  brooded  aloof, 
Champed  the  grain  of  the  wrath  of  God, 
Pressed  a  cloud  on  the  cowering  roof, 
Snorted  out  of  the  blackness  fire  ! 
Scarlet  broke  the  sky,  and  down, 
Hammering  West  with  print  of  his  hoof. 
He  burst  out  of  the  bosom  of  ire 
Sharp  as  eyelight  under  thy  frown, 
Attila,  my  Attila  I 


IX 

Ravaged  cities  rolling  smoke 
Thick  on  cornfields  dry  and  black. 
Wave  his  banners,  bear  his  yoke. 
Track  the  lightning,  and  you  track 
Attila.     They  moan :  't  is  he  ! 
Bleed :  't  is  he  !     Beneath  his  foot 
Leagues  are  deserts  charred  and  mute ; 
Where  he  passed,  there  passed  a  sea. 
Attila,  my  Attila! 


268  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LITE 

—  Who  breathed  on  the  king  cold  breath? 
Said  a  voice  amid  the  host, 
He  is  Death  that  weds  a  ghost, 
Else  a  ghost  that  weds  with  Death  ? 
Ildico's  chill  little  hand 
Shuddering  he  beheld  :  austere 
Stared,  as  one  who  would  command 
Sight  of  what  has  filled  his  ear : 
Plucked  his  thin  beard,  laughed  disdain. 
Feast,  ye  Huns !     His  arm  he  raised, 
Like  the  warrior,  battle-dazed, 
Joining  to  the  fight  amain. 
Make  the  bed  for  Attila! 

zi 

Silent  Edico  stood  up. 
King  and  chief  to  pledge  her  well. 
Shocked  sword  sword  and  cup  on  cup, 
Clamouring  like  a  brazen  bell. 
Silent  stepped  the  queenly  slave. 
Fair,  by  heaven !  she  was  to  meet 
On  a  midnight,  near  a  grave, 
Flapping  wide  the  winding-sheet. 

XII 

Death  and  she  walked  through  the  crowd, 
Out  beyond  the  flush  of  light. 
Ceremonious  women  bowed 
Following  her  :  't  was  middle  night. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LIFE  269 

Then  the  warriors  each  on  each 
Spied,  nor  overloudly  laughed ; 
Like  the  victims  of  the  leech, 
Who  have  drunk  of  a  strange  draught. 


XIII 

Attila  remained.    Even  so 
Frowned  he  when  he  struck  the  blow, 
Brained  his  horse  that  stumbled  twice, 
On  a  bloody  day  in  Gaul, 
Bellowing,  Perish  omens!     All 
Marvelled  at  the  sacrifice, 
But  the  battle,  swinging  dim, 
Rang  off  that  axe-blow  for  him. 
Attila,  my  Attila! 

XIV 

Brightening  over  Danube  wheeled 
Star  by  star  ;  and  she,  most  fair, 
Sweet  as  victory  half-revealed, 
Seized  to  make  him  glad  and  young ; 
She,  0  sweet  as  the  dark  sign 
Given  him  oft  in  battles  gone. 
When  the  voice  within  said,  Dare  ! 
And  the  trumpet-notes  were  sprung 
Rapturous  for  the  charge  in  line : 
She  lay  waiting :  fair  as  dawn 
Wrapped  in  folds  of  night  she  lay ; 
Secret,  lustrous  ;   flaglike  there. 


270  BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

Waiting  him  to  stream  and  ray, 
With  one  loosening  blush  outliung, 
Colours  of  his  hordes  of  horse 
Ranked  for  combat :  still  he  hung 
Like  the  fever  dreading  air, 
Cursed  of  heat ;  and  as  a  corse 
Gathers  vultures,  in  his  brain 
Images  of  her  eyes  and  kiss 
Plucked  at  the  limbs  that  could  remain 
Loitering  nigh  the  doors  of  bliss. 
Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 

XV 

Passion  on  one  hand,  on  one, 
Destiny  led  forth  the  Hun. 
Heard  ye  outcries  of  affright. 
Voices  that  through  many  a  fray, 
In  the  press  of  flag  and  spear. 
Warned  the  king  of  peril  near  ? 
Men  were  dumb,  they  gave  him  way, 
Eager  heads  to  left  and  right, 
Like  the  bearded  standard,  thrust, 
As  in  battle,  for  a  nod 
From  their  lord  of  battle-dust. 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
Slow  between  the  lines  he  trod. 
Saw  ye  not  the  sun  drop  slow 
On  this  nuptial  day,  ere  eve 
Pierced  him  on  the  couch  aglow? 

Attila,  my  Attila! 
Here  and  there  his  heart  would  cleave 


BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  271 

Clotted  memory  for  a  space  : 
Some  stout  chief's  familiar  face, 
Choicest  of  his  fighting  brood, 
Touched  him,  as  't  were  one  to  know 
Ere  he  met  his  bride's  embrace. 

Attila,  my  Attila! 
Twisting  fingers  in  a  beard 
Scant  as  winter  underwood, 
With  a  narrowed  eye  he  peered ; 
Like  the  sunset's  graver  red 
Up  old  pine-stems.     Grave  he  stood 
Eyeing  them  on  whom  was  shed 
Burning  light  from  him  alone. 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
Red  were  they  whose  mouths  recalled 
Where  the  slaughter  mounted  high, 
High  on  it,  o'er  earth  appalled, 
He  ;  heaven's  finger  in  their  sight 
Raising  him  on  waves  of  dead  : 
Up  to  heaven  his  trumpets  blown. 
0  for  the  time  when  God's  delight 

Crowned  the  head  of  Attila ! 
Hungry  river  of  the  crag 
Stretching  hands  for  earth  he  came ; 
Force  and  Speed  astride  his  name 
Pointed  back  to  spear  and  flag. 
He  came  out  of  miracle  cloud, 
Lightning-swift  and  spectre-lean. 
Now  those  days  are  in  a  shroud: 
Have  him  to  his  ghostly  queen. 

Make  the  bed  for  Attila ! 


272  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

XVI 

One,  with  winecups  overstrung, 

Cried  him  farewell  in  Rome's  tongue. 

Who?  for  the  great  king  turned  as  though 

Wrath  to  the  shaft's  head  strained  the  bow. 

Nay,  not  wrath  the  king  possessed, 

But  a  radiance  of  the  breast. 

In  that  sound  iie  had  the  key 

Of  his  cunning  malady. 

Lo,  where  gleamed  the  sapphire  lake, 

Leo,  with  his  Rome  at  stake, 

Drew  blank  air  to  hues  and  forms ; 

Whereof  Two  that  shone  distinct, 

Linked  as  orbed  stars  are  linked, 

Clear  among  the  myriad  swarms. 

In  a  constellation,  dashed 

Full  on  horse  and  rider's  eyes 

Sunless  light,  but  light  it  was  — 

Light  that  blinded  and  abashed, 

Froze  his  members,  bade  him  pause, 

Caught  him  mid-gallop,  blazed  him  home. 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
What  are  streams  that  cease  to  flow  ? 
What  was  Attila,  rolled  thence. 
Cheated  by  a  juggler's  show  ? 
Like  that  lake  of  blue  intense. 
Under  tempest  lashed  to  foam. 
Lurid  radiance,  as  he  passed, 
Filled  him,  and  around  was  glassed. 
When  deep-voiced  he  uttered,  Rome  I 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LIFE  273 

xvn 

Eome !  the  word  was :  and  like  meat 
Flung  to  dogs  the  word  was  torn. 
Soon  Rome's  magic  priests  shall  bleat 
Round  their  magic  Pope  forlorn  ! 
Loud  they  swore  the  king  had  sworn 
Vengeance  on  the  Roman  cheat, 
Ere  he  passed  as,  grave  and  still, 
Danube  through  the  shouting  hill : 
Sworn  it  by  his  naked  life ! 
Eagle,  snakes  these  women  are : 
Take  them  on  the  wing !  but  war, 
Smoking  war  's  the  warrior's  wife  I 
Then  for  plunder !  then  for  brides 
Won  without  a  winking  priest !  — 
Danube  whirled  his  train  of  tides 
Black  toward  the  yellow  East. 
Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 

XVIII 

Chirrups  of  the  trot  afield, 
Hurrahs  of  the  battle-charge, 
How  they  answered,  how  they  pealed, 
When  the  morning  rose  and  drew 
Bow  and  javelin,  lance  and  targe, 
In  the  nuptial  casement's  view  I 

Attila,  ray  Attila ! 
Down  the  hills.purs,  out  of  tents 
Glimmering  in  mid-forest,  through 
Mists  of  the  cool  morning  scents, 


274  BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TKAGIO  LIFE 

Forth  from  city-alley,  court, 
Arch,  the  bounding  horsemen  flew, 
Joined  along  the  plains  of  dew, 
Baced  and  gave  the  rein  to  sport. 
Closed  and  streamed  like  curtain-rents 
Fluttered  by  a  wind,  and  flowed 
Into  squadrons  :  trumpets  blew, 
Chargers  neighed,  and  trappings  glowed 
Brave  as  the  bright  Orient's. 
Look  on  the  seas  that  run  to  greet 
Sunrise :  look  on  the  leagues  of  wheat : 
Look  on  the  lines  and  squares  that  fret 
Leaping  to  level  the  lance  blood-wet. 
Tens  of  thousands,  man  and  steed, 
Tossing  like  field-flowers  in  Spring ; 
Ready  to  be  hurled  at  need 
Whither  their  great  lord  may  sling. 
Finger  Romeward,  Romeward,  King! 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
Still  the  woman  holds  him  fast 
As  a  night-flag  round  the  mast. 


XIX 

Nigh  upon  the  fiery  noon. 
Out  of  ranks  a  roaring  burst. 
'Ware  white  women  like  the  moon! 
They  are  poison :  they  have  thirst 
First  for  love,  and  next  for  rule. 
Jealous  of  the  army,  she  ? 
Ho,  the  little  wanton  tool  1 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LIFE  271 

We  were  his  before  she  squealed 
Blind  for  mother's  milk,  and  heeled 
Kicking  on  her  mother's  knee. 
His  in  life  and  death  are  we : 
She  but  one  flower  of  a  field. 
We  have  given  him  bliss  tenfold 
In  an  hour  to  match  her  night: 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
Still  her  arms  the  master  hold, 
As  on  wounds  the  scarf  winds  tight. 


XX 

Over  Danube  day  no  more, 
Like  the  warrior's  planted  spear, 
Stood  to  hail  the  King  :  in  fear       \ 
Western  day  knocked  at  his  door. 

Attila,  my  Attila! 
Sudden  in  the  army's  eyes 
Rolled  a  blast  of  lights  and  cries  : 
Flashing  through  them :  Dead  are  ye  ! 
Dead,  ye  Huns,  and  torn  piec(!meal! 
See  the  ordered  army  reel 
Stricken  through  the  ribs  :  and  see, 
Wild  for  speed  to  cheat  despair, 
Horsemen,  clutching  knee  to  chin. 
Crouch  and  dart  they  know  not  where. 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
Faces  covered,  faces  bare, 
Light  the  palace-front  like  jets 
Of  a  dreadful  fire  within. 


276  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

Beating  hands  and  driving  hair 
Start  on  roof  and  parapets. 
Dust  rolls  up  ;  the  slaugliter  din. 
—  Death  to  them  who  call  him  dead  I 
Death  to  them  who  doubt  the  tale  1 
Choking  in  his  dusty  veil, 
Sank  the  sun  on  his  deatli-bed. 
Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 


XXI 

'T  is  the  room  where  thunder  sleeps. 
Frenzy,  as  a  wave  to  shore 
Surging,  burst  the  silent  door, 
And  drew  back  to  awful  deeps, 
Breath  beaten  out,  foam- white.     Anew 
Howled  and  pressed  the  ghastly  crew, 
Like  storm-waters  over  rocks. 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
One  long  shaft  of  sunset  red 
Laid  a  finger  on  the  bed. 
Horror,  with  the  snaky  locks. 
Shocked  the  surge  to  stiffened  heaps, 
Hoary  as  the  glacier's  head 
Faced  to  the  moon.     Insane  they  look. 
God  it  is  in  heaven  who  weeps 
Fallen  from  his  hand  the  Scourge  he  shook. 

Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  277 


XXII 

Square  along  the  couch,  and  stark, 
Like  the  sea-rejected  thing 
Sea-sucked  white,  behold  their  King. 

Attila,  my  Attila ! 
Beams  that  panted  black  and  bright. 
Scornful  lightnings  danced  their  sight ; 
Him  they  see  an  oak  in  bud, 
Him  an  oaklog  stripped  of  bark : 
Him,  their  lord  of  day  and  night, 
White,  and  lifting  up  his  blood 
Dumb  for  vengeance.    Name  us  that, 
Huddled  in  the  corner  dark. 
Humped  and  grinning  like  a  cat, 
Teeth  for  lips !  —  't  is  she  !  she  stares, 
Glittering  through  her  bristled  hairs. 
Kendher!     Pierce  her  to  the  hilt  I 
She  is  Murder :  have  her  out ! 
What !  this  little  fist,  as  big 
As  the  southern  summer  fig! 
She  is  Madness,  none  may  doubt. 
Death,  who  dares  deny  her  guilt! 
Death,  who  says  his  blood  she  spilt! 

Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 

XXIII 

Torch  and  lamp  and  sunset-red 
Fell  three-fingered  on  the  bed. 
In  the  torch  the  beard-hair  scant 
With  the  great  breast  seemed  to  pant : 


278  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC  LITE 

In  the  yellow  lamp  the  limbs 
Wavered,  as  the  lake-flower  swims: 
In  the  sunset  red  the  dead 
Dead  avowed  him,  dry  blood-red. 

XXIV 

Hatred  of  that  abject  slave, 
Earth,  was  in  each  chieftain's  heart. 
Earth  has  got  him,  whom  God  gave, 
Earth  may  sing,  and  earth  shall  smart ! 
Attila,  my  Attila ! 

XXV 

Thus  their  prayer  was  raved  and  ceased. 
Then  had  Vengeance  of  her  feast 
Scent  in  their  quick  pang  to  smite 
Which  they  knew  not,  but  huge  pain 
Urged  them  for  some  victim  slain 
Swift,  and  blotted  from  the  sight. 
Each  at  each,  a  crouching  beast. 
Glared,  and  quivered  for  the  word. 
Each  at  each,  and  all  on  tliat. 
Humped  and  grinning  like  a  cat. 
Head-bound  with  its  bridal-wreath 
Then  the  bitter  chamber  heard 
Vengeance  in  a  cauldron  seethe. 
Hurried  counsel  rage  and  craft 
Yelped  to  hungry  men,  whose  teeth 
Hard  the  grey  lip-ringlet  gnawed. 
Gleaming  till  their  fury  laughed. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  279 

With  the  steel-hilt  in  the  clutch, 

Eyes  were  shot  on  her  that  froze 

In  their  blood-thirst  overawed  ; 

Burned  to  rend,  yet  feared  to  touch. 

She  that  was  his  nuptial  rose, 

She  was  of  his  heart's  blood  clad : 

Oh  !  the  last  of  him  she  had !  — 

Could  a  little  fist  as  big 

As  the  southern  summer  fig, 

Push  a  dagger's  point  to  pierce 

Ribs  like  those  ?     Who  else !     They  glared 

Each  at  each.     Suspicion  fierce 

Many  a  black  remembrance  bared. 

Attila,  ray  Attila! 
Death,  who  dares  deny  her  guilt! 
Death,  who  says  his  blood  she  spilt  I 
Traitor  he,  who  stands  between  ! 
Swift  to  hell,  who  harms  the  Queen  I 
She,  the  wild  contention's  cause. 
Combed  her  hair  with  quiet  paws. 

Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 


XXVI 

Night  was  on  the  host  in  arms. 
Night,  as  never  night  before, 
Hearkened  to  an  army's  roar 
Breaking  up  in  snaky  swarms : 
Torch  and  steel  and  snorting  steed, 
Hunted  by  the  cry  of  blood, 
Cursed  with  blindness,  mad  for  day. 


280  BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

Where  the  torches  ran  a  flood, 
Tales  of  him  and  of  the  deed 
Showered  like  a  torrent  spray. 
Fear  of  silence  made  them  strive 
Loud  in  warrior-hymns  that  grew 
Hoarse  for  slaughter  yet  unwreaked. 
Ghostly  Night  across  the  hive, 
With  a  crimson  finger  drew 
Letters  on  her  breast  and  shrieked. 
Night  was  on  them  like  the  mould 
On  the  buried  half  alive. 
Night,  their  bloody  Queen,  her  fold 
Wound  on  them  and  struck  them  through. 
Make  the  bed  for  Attila ! 


XXVII 

Earth  has  got  him  whom  God  gave. 
Earth  may  sing,  and  earth  shall  smart ! 
None  of  earth  shall  know  his  grave. 
They  that  dig  with  Death  depart. 
Attila,  my  Attila ! 

XXVIII 

Thus  their  prayer  was  raved  and  passed : 
Passed  in  peace  their  red  sunset : 
Hewn  and  earthed  those  men  of  sweat 
Who  had  housed  him  in  the  vast, 
Where  no  mortal  might  declare, 
There  lies  he  — his  end  was  there  I 
Attila,  my  Attila ! 


BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LIFE  281 


XXIX 

Kingless  was  the  army  left : 
Of  its  head  the  race  bereft. 
Every  fury  of  the  pit 
Tortured  and  dismembered  it. 
Lo,  upon  a  silent  hour, 
When  the  pitch  of  frost  subsides, 
Danube  with  a  shout  of  power 
Loosens  his  imprisoned  tides : 
Wide  around  the  frighted  plains 
Shake  to  hear  his  riven  chains, 
Dreadfuller  than  heaven  in  wrath. 
As  he  makes  himself  a  path: 
High  leap  the  ice-cracks,  towering  pile 
Floes  to  bergs,  and  giant  peers 
Wrestle  on  a  drifted  isle  j 
Island  on  ice-island  rears  ; 
Dissolution  battles  fast : 
Big  the  senseless  Titans  loom, 
Through  a  mist  of  common  doom 
Striving  which  shall  die  the  last: 
Till  a  gentle-breathing  morn 
Frees  the  stream  from  bank  to  bank. 
So  the  Empire  built  of  scorn 
Agonized,  dissolved  and  sank. 
Of  the  Queen  no  more  was  told 
Than  of  leaf  on  Danube  rolled. 
Make  the  bed  for  Attila  I 


ANEURIN'S  HAKP 


Prince  of  Bards  was  old  Aneurinj 
He  the  grand  Gododin  sang; 
All  his  numbers  threw  such  fire  in. 
Struck  his  harp  so  wild  a  twang ;  — 
Still  the  wakeful  Briton  borrows 
Wisdom  from  its  ancient  heat: 
Still  it  haunts  our  source  of  sorrows, 
Deep  excess  of  liquor  sweet  I 


II 

Here  the  Briton,  there  the  Saxon, 
Face  to  face,  three  fields  apart, 
Thirst  for  light  to  lay  their  thwacks  on 
Each  the  otlier  with  good  heart. 
Dry  the  Saxon  sits,  'mid  dinful 
Noise  of  iron  knits  his  steel : 
Fresh  and  roaring  with  a  skinful, 
Britons  round  the  hirlas  reel. 


BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  283 

III 

Yellow  flamed  tlie  meady  sunset ; 
Bed  ruus  up  the  flag  of  morn. 
Signal  for  the  British  onset 
Hiccups  through  the  British  horn. 
Down  these  hillmen  pour  like  cattle 
Snifting  pasture  :  grim  below, 
Showing  eager  teeth  of  battle, 
In  his  spear-heads  lies  the  foe. 

IV 

-  Monster  of  the  sea !  we  drive  him 

Back  into  his  hungry  brine. 
-You  shall  lodge  him,  feed  him,  wive  him. 

Look  on  us  ;  we  stand  in  line. 
-Pale  sea-monster!  foul  the  waters 

Cast  him  ;  foul  he  leaves  our  land. 
-You  shall  yield  us  land  and  daughters : 

Stay  the  tongue,  and  try  the  hand. 


Swift  as  torrent-streams  our  warriors, 
Tossing  torrent  lights,  find  way  ; 
Burst  the  ridges,  crowd  the  barriers, 
Pierce  them  where  the  spear-heads  play ; 
Turn  tliem  as  the  clods  in  furrow. 
Top  them  like  the  leaping  foam ; 
Sorrow  to  the  mother,  sorrow. 
Sorrow  to  the  wife  at  home ! 


284  BALLADS  AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFB 

VI 

Stags,  they  butted ;  bulls,  tbey  bellowed  j 
Hounds,  we  baited  them  ;  oh,  brave! 
Every  second  man,  unfellowed, 
Took  the  strokes  of  two,  and  gave. 
Bare  as  hop-stakes  in  November's 
Mists  they  met  our  battle-flood: 
Hoary-red  as  Winter's  embers 
Lay  their  dead  lines  done  in  blood. 

VII 

Thou,  my  Bard,  didst  hang  thy  lyre  in 
Oak-leaves,  and  with  crimson  brand 
Rhythmic  fury  spent,  Aneurin  ; 
Songs  the  churls  could  understand  : 
Thrumming  on  their  Saxon  sconces 
Straight,  the  invariable  blow, 
Till  they  snorted  true  responses. 
Ever  thus  the  Bard  they  know ! 

vm 

But  ere  nightfall,  harper  lusty  I 
When  the  sun  was  like  a  ball 
Dropping  on  the  battle  dusty, 
What  was  yon  discordant  call  ? 
Cambria's  old  metlieglin  demon 
Breathed  against  our  rushing  tide  ; 
Clove  us  midst  the  thresliing  seamen:  — 
Gashed,  we  saw  our  ranks  divide  I 


BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF  TKAGIC   LIFE  285 


IX 

Britain  then  with  valedictory 
Shriek  veiled  off  her  face  and  knelt. 
Full  of  liquor,  full  of  victory, 
Chief  on  chief  old  vengeance  dealt. 
Backward  swung  their  hurly-burly ; 
None  but  dead  men  kept  the  fight. 
They  that  drink  their  cup  too  early, 
Darkness  they  shall  see  ere  night. 


Loud  we  heard  the  yellow  rover 
Laugh  to  sleep,  while  we  raged  thick, 
Thick  as  ants  the  ant-hill  over. 
Asking  who  has  thrust  the  stick. 
Lo,  as  frogs  that  Winter  cumbers 
Meet  the  Spring  with  stiffen'd  yawn, 
We  from  our  hard  night  of  slumbers, 
Marched  into  the  bloody  dawn. 

XI 

Day  on  day  we  fought,  though  shattered; 

Pushed  and  met  repulses  sharp, 

Till  our  Raven's  plumes  were  scattered: 

All,  save  old  Aneurin's  harp. 

Hear  it  wailing  like  a  mother 

O'er  the  strings  of  children  slainl 

He  in  one  tongue,  in  another, 

Alien,  I;  one  blood,  yet  twain. 


286  BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LUH 

ZII 

Old  Aneurin !  droop  no  longer. 
That  squat  ocean-scum,  we  own, 
Had  fine  stoutness,  made  us  stronger, 
Brought  us  much-required  backbone : 
Claimed  of  Power  their  dues,  and  granted 
Dues  to  Power  in  turn,  when  rose 
Mightier  rovers  ;  they  that  planted 
Sovereign  here  the  Norman  nose. 

XIIT 

Glorious  men,  with  heads  of  eagles, 
Chopping  arms,  and  cupboard  lips ; 
Warriors,  hunters,  keen  as  beagles, 
Mounted  aye  on  horse  or  ships. 
Active,  being  hungry  creatures ; 
Silent,  having  nought  to  say : 
High  they  raised  the  lord  of  features, 
Saxon-worshipped  to  this  day. 

XIV 

Hear  its  deeds,  the  great  recital  I 
Stout  as  bergs  of  Arctic  ice 
Once  it  led,  and  lived ;  a  title 
Now  it  is,  and  names  its  price. 
This  our  Saxon  brothers  cherish: 
This,  when  by  the  worth  of  wits 
Lands  are  reared  aloft,  or  perish. 
Sole  illumes  their  lucre-pits. 


BAIxLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE  287 

XV 

Know  we  not  our  wrongs,  unwritten 
Though  they  be,  Aneurin  ?     Sword, 
Song,  and  subtle  mind,  the  Briton 
Brings  to  market,  all  ignored. 
'Gainst  the  Saxon's  bone  impinging, 
Still  is  our  Gododin  played ; 
Shamed  we  see  him  humbly  cringing 
In  a  shadowy  nose's  shade. 

XVI 

Bitter  is  the  weight  that  crushes 
Low,  my  Bard,  thy  race  of  fire. 
Here  no  fair  young  future  blushes 
Bridal  to  a  man's  desire. 
Neither  chief,  nor  aim,  nor  splendour 
Dressing  distance,  we  perceive. 
Neither  honour,  nor  the  tender 
Bloom  of  promise,  morn  or  eve. 

xvri 

Joined  we  are ;  a  tide  of  races 
Rolled  to  meet  a  common  fate; 
England  clasps  in  her  embraces 
Many :  what  is  England's  state  ? 
England  her  distended  middle 
Thumps  with  pride  as  Mammon's  wife; 
Says  that  thus  she  reads  thy  riddle. 
Heaven !  't  is  heaven  to  plump  her  life. 


288  BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

XVIII 

O  my  Bard !  a  yellow  liquor, 
Like  to  that  we  drank  of  old  — 
Gold  is  her  metheglin  beaker, 
She  destruction  drinks  in  gold. 
Warn  her,  Bard,  that  Power  is  pressing 
Hotly  for  his  dues  this  hour ; 
Tell  her  that  no  drunken  blessing 
Stops  the  onward  march  of  Power. 

XIX 

Has  she  ears  to  take  forewarnings 
She  will  cleanse  her  of  her  stains. 
Feed  and  speed  for  braver  mornings 
Valorously  the  growth  of  brains. 
Power,  the  hard  man  knit  for  action. 
Beads  each  nation  on  the  brow. 
Cripple,  fool,  and  petrifaction, 
Fall  to  him  —  are  falling  now ! 


MEN  AND  MAN 


Men  the  Angels  eyed; 

And  here  they  were  wild  waves. 

And  there  as  marsh  descried, 

Men  the  Angels  eyed, 

And  liked  the  picture  best 

Where  they  were  greenly  dressed 

In  brotherhood  of  graves. 


n 

Man  the  Angels  marked ; 
He  led  a  host  through  murk. 
On  fearful  seas  embarked, 
Man  the  Angels  marked ; 
To  think  without  a  nay, 
That  he  was  good  as  they, 
And  help  him  at  his  work. 


290  BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LUB 

in 

Man  and  Angels,  ye 

A  sluggish  fen  shall  drain, 

Shall  quell  a  warring  sea, 

Man  and  Angels,  ye, 

Whom  stain  of  strife  befouls, 

A  light  to  kindle  souls 

Bear  radiant  in  the  stain. 


THE  LAST  CONTENTION 


Young  captain  of  a  crazy  bark ! 
0  tameless  heart  iu  battered  frame  1 
Thy  sailing  orders  have  a  mark, 
And  hers  is  not  the  name. 

II 

For  action  all  thine  iron  clanks 
In  cravings  for  a  splendid  prize ; 
Again  to  race  or  bump  thy  planks 
With  any  flag  that  flies. 

Ill 

Consult  them  ;  they  are  eloquent 
For  senses  not  inebriate. 
They  trust  thee  on  the  star  intent, 
That  leads  to  land  their  freight. 

TV 

And  they  have  known  thee  high  peruse 
The  heavens,  and  deep  the  earth,  till  thou 
Didst  into  the  flushed  circle  cruise 
Where  reason  quits  the  brow. 


292  BALLADS  Am)  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC   LIFE 


Thou  animatest  ancient  tales. 
To  prove  our  world  of  linear  seed: 
Thy  very  virtue  now  assails, 
A  tempter  to  mislead. 

VI 

But  thou  hast  answer :  I  am  I ; 
My  passion  hallows,  bids  command: 
And  she  is  gracious,  she  is  nigh : 
One  motion  of  the  hand  I 

VII 

It  will  suffice ;  a  whirly  tune 
These  winds  will  pipe,  and  thou  perform 
The  nodded  part  of  pantaloon 
In  thy  created  storm. 

VIII 

Admires  thee  Nature  with  much  pride ; 
She  clasps  thee  for  a  gift  of  morn, 
Till  thou  art  set  against  the  tide, 
And  then  beware  her  scorn. 

IX 

Sad  issue,  should  that  strife  befall 
Between  thy  mortal  ship  and  thee ! 
It  writes  the  melancholy  scrawl ! 
Of  wreckage  over  sea. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  293 


This  lady  of  the  luting  tongue, 
The  flash  in  darkness,  billow's  grace, 
For  thee  the  worship ;  for  the  young 
In  muscle  the  embrace. 


XI 


Soar  on  thy  manhood  clear  from  those 
Whose  toothless  Winter  claws  at  May, 
And  take  her  as  the  vein  of  rose 
Athwart  an  evening  grey. 


PEKIANDER 


How  died  Melissa  none  dares  shape  in  words. 

A  woman  who  is  wife  despotic  lords 

Count  faggot  at  the  question,  Shall  she  live! 

Her  son,  because  his  brows  were  black  of  her, 

Runs  barking  for  his  bread,  a  fugitive, 

And  Corinth  frowns  on  them  that  feed  the  cur. 


II 

There  is  no  Corinth  save  the  whip  and  curb 

Of  Corinth,  high  Periander;  the  superb 

In  magnanimity,  in  rule  severe. 

Up  on  his  marble  fortress-tower  he  sits, 

The  city  under  him  :  a  white  yoked  steer, 

That  bears  his  heart  for  pulse,  his  head  for  wits. 

Ill 

Bloom  of  the  generous  fires  of  his  fair  Spring 
Still  coloured  him  when  men  forbore  to  sting; 
Admiring  meekly  where  the  ordered  seeds 
Of  his  good  sovereignty  showed  gardens  trim; 
And  owning  that  the  hoe  he  struck  at  weeds 
Was  author  of  the  flowers  raised  face  to  him. 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE         295 


IV 

His  Corinth,  to  each  mood  subservient 

In  homage,  made  he  as  an  instrument 

To  yield  him  music  with  scarce  touch  of  stops. 

He  breathed,  it  piped;  he  moved,  it  rose  to  fly : 

At  whiles  a  bloodhorse  racing  till  it  drops ; 

At  whiles  a  crouching  dog,  on  him  all  eye. 


His  wisdom  men  acknowledged  ;  only  one, 
The  creature,  issue  of  him,  Lycophron, 
That  rebel  with  his  mother  in  his  brows, 
Contested  :  such  an  infamous  would  foul 
Pirene!     Little  heed  where  he  might  house 
The  prince  gave,  hearing :  so  the  fox,  the  owl  I 


VI 

To  prove  the  Gods  benignant  to  his  rule, 
The  years,  which  fasten  rigid  whom  they  cool, 
Reviewing,  saw  him  hold  the  seat  of  power. 
A  grey  one  asked :  Who  next  ?  nor  answer  had 
One  greyer  pointed  on  the  pallid  hour 
To  come :  a  river  dried  of  waters  glad. 


296  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 


Vll 


For  which  of  his  male  issue  promised  grip 
To  stride  yon  people,  with  the  curb  and  whip  ? 
This  Lycophron!  he  sole,  the  father  like, 
Fired  prospect  of  a  line  in  one  strong  tide, 
By  right  of  mastery ;  stern  will  to  strike ; 
Pride  to  support  the  stroke :  yea.  Godlike  pride  1 


VIII 

Himself  the  prince  beheld  a  failing  fount. 
His  line  stretched  back  unto  its  holy  mount : 
The  thirsty  onward  waved  for  him  no  sign. 
Then  stood  before  his  vision  that  hard  son. 
The  seizure  of  a  passion  for  his  line 
Impelled  him  to  the  path  of  Lycophron. 


IX 

The  youth  was  tossing  pebbles  in  the  seaj 

A  figure  shunned  along  the  busy  quay, 

Perforce  of  the  harsh  edict  for  who  dared 

Address  him  outcast.     Naming  it,  lie  crossed 

His  father's  look  with  look  that  proved  them  paired 

For  stiffness,  and  another  pebble  tossed. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  297 


An  exile  to  the  Island  ere  nightfall 

He  passed  from  sight,  from  the  hushed  mouths  of  all. 

It  had  resemblance  to  a  death :  and  on, 

Against  a  coast  where  sapphire  shattered  white, 

The  seasons  rolled  like  troops  of  billows  blown 

To  spraymist.     The  prince  gazed  on  capping  night. 


Deaf  Age  spake  in  his  ear  with  shouts :  Thy  son! 

Deep  from  his  heart  Life  raved  of  work  not  done. 

He  heard  historic  echoes  moan  his  name. 

As  of  the  prince  in  whom  the  race  had  pause  j 

Till  Tyranny  paternity  became, 

And  him  he  hated  loved  he  for  the  cause. 


XII 

Not  Lycophron  the  exile  now  appeared, 
But  young  Periander,  from  the  shadow  cleared, 
That  haunted  his  rebellious  brows.     The  prince 
Grew  bright  for  him  ;  saw  youth,  if  seeming  loth, 
Return  :  and  of  pure  pardon  to  convince, 
Despatched  the  messenger  most  dear  with  both. 


298  BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

XIII 

His  daughter,  from  the  exile's  Island  home, 
Wrote,  as  a  flight  of  halcyons  o'er  the  foam, 
Sweet  words  :  her  brother  to  his  father  bowed ; 
Accepted  his  peace-offering,  and  rejoiced. 
To  bring  him  back  a  prince  the  father  vowed, 
Commanded  man  the  oars,  the  white  sails  hoist. 


XIV 

He  waved  the  fleet  to  strain  its  westward  way 

On  to  the  sea-hued  hills  that  crown  the  bay  : 

Soil  of  those  hospitable  islanders 

Whom  now  his  heart,  for  honour  to  his  blood. 

Thanked.    They  should  learn  what  boons  a  prince  confers 

When  happiness  enjoins  him  gratitude! 


XT 

In  watch  upon  the  offing,  worn  with  haste 
To  see  his  youth  revived,  and,  close  embraced, 
Pardon  who  had  subdued  him,  who  had  gained 
Surely  the  stoutest  battle  between  two 
Since  Titan  pierced  by  young  Apollo  stained 
Earth's   breast,   the   prince    looked  forth,  himself  looked 
through. 


BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  299 

XVI 

Errors  aforetime  unperceived  were  bared. 

To  be  by  his  young  masterful  repaired : 

Renewed  his  great  ideas  gone  to  smoke ; 

His  policy  confirmed  amid  the  surge 

Of  States  and  people  fretting  at  his  yoke. 

And  lo,  the  fleet  brown-flocked  on  the  sea- verge ! 


XVII 

Oars  pulled  :  they  streamed  in  harbour ;  without  cheer 

For  welcome  shadowed  round  the  heaving  bier. 

They,  whose  approach  in  such  rare  pomp  and  stress 

Of  numbers  the  free  islanders  dismayed 

At  Tyranny  come  masking  to  oppress, 

Found  Lycophron  this  breathless,  this  lone-laid. 


XVIII 

Who  smote  the  man  thrown  open  to  young  joy  ? 

The  image  of  the  mother  of  his  boy 

Came  forth  from  his  unwary  breast  in  wreaths, 

With  eyes.     And  shall  a  woman,  that  extinct, 

Smite  out  of  dust  the  Powerful  who  breathes  ? 

Her  loved  the  son  ;  her  served ;  they  lay  close-linked! 


300  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 


XIX 

Dead  was  he,  and  demanding  earth.    Demand 
Sharper  for  vengeance  of  an  instant  hand. 
The  Tyrant  in  the  father  heard  him  cry, 
And  raged  a  plague ;  to  prove  on  free  Hellenes 
How  prompt  the  Tyrant  for  the  Persian  dye ; 
How  black  his  Gods  behind  their  marble  screens. 


SOLON 


The  Tyrant  passed,  and  friendlier  was  his  eye 

On  the  great  man  of  Athens,  whom  for  foe 

He  knew,  than  on  the  sycophantic  fry 

That  broke  as  waters  round  a  galley's  flow, 

Bubbles  at  prow  and  foam  along  the  wake. 

Solidity  the  Thunderer  could  not  shake, 

Beneath  an  adverse  wind  still  stripping  bare, 

His  kinsman,  of  the  light-in-cavern  look, 

From  thought  drew,  and  a  countenance  could  wear 

Not  less  at  peace  than  fields  in  Attic  air 

Shorn,  and  shown  fruitful  by  the  reaper's  hook. 


II 

Most  enviable  so  ;  yet  much  insane 

To  deem  of  minds  of  men  they  grow !  these  sheep, 

By  fits  wild  horses,  need  the  crook  and  rein ; 

Hot  bulls  by  fits,  pure  wisdom  hold  they  cheap, 

My  Lawgiver,  when  fiery  is  the  mood. 

For  ones  and  twos  and  threes  thy  words  are  good; 

For  thine  own  government  are  pillars :  mine 


302  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

Stand  acts  to  fit  the  herd  ;  which  has  quick  thirst, 

Rejecting  elegiacs,  though  they  shine 

On  polished  brass,  and,  worthy  of  the  Nine, 

In  showering  columns  from  their  fountain  burst. 


Ill 

Thus  museful  rode  the  Tyrant,  princely  plumed. 
To  his  high  seat  upon  the  sacred  rock : 
And  Solon,  blank  beside  his  rule,  resumed 
The  meditation  which  that  passing  mock 
Had  buffeted  awhile  to  sallowness. 
He  little  loved  the  man,  his  office  less, 
Yet  owned  him  for  a  flower  of  his  kind. 
Therefore  the  heavier  curse  on  Athens  he ! 
The  people  grew  not  in  themselves,  but  blind. 
Accepted  sight  from  him,  to  him  resigned 
Their  hopes  of  stature,  rootless  as  at  sea. 

IV 

As  under  sea  lay  Solon's  work,  or  seemed 

By  turbid  shore-waves  beaten  day  by  day ; 

Defaced,  half-formless,  like  an  image  dreamed, 

Or  child  that  fashioned  in  another  clay 

Appears,  by  strangers'  hands  to  home  returned. 

But  shall  the  Present  tyrannize  us  ?  earned 

It  was  in  some  way,  justly  says  the  sage. 

One  sees  not  how,  while  husbanding  regrets ; 

While  tossing  scorn  abroad  from  righteous  rage. 

High  vision  is  obscured  ;  for  this  is  age 

When  robbed  —  more  infant  than  the  babe  it  frets! 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS   OF  TRAGIC  LIFB  303 


Yet  see  Athenians  treading  the  black  path 

Laid  by  a  prince's  shadow  !  well  content 

To  wait  his  pleasure,  shivering  at  his  wrath : 

They  bow  to  their  accepted  Orient 

With  offer  of  the  all  that  renders  bright : 

Forgetful  of  the  growth  of  men  to  light, 

As  creatures  reared  on  Persian  milk  they  bow. 

Unripe  !  unripe  !     The  times  are  overcast. 

But  still  may  they  who  sowed  behind  the  plough 

True  seed  fix  in  the  mind  an  unborn  Now 

To  make  the  plagues  afflicting  us  things  past. 


BELLEROPHON. 


Maimed,  beggared,  grey  ;  seeking  an  alms  ;  with  nod 
Of  palsy  doing  task  of  thanks  for  bread ; 

Upon  the  stature  of  a  God, 
He  whom  the  Gods  have  struck  bends  low  his  head. 


II 

Weak  words  he  has,  that  slip  the  nerveless  tongue 
Deformed,  like  his  great  frame :  a  broken  arc : 

Once  radiant  as  the  javelin  flung 
Right  at  the  centre  breastplate  of  his  mark. 

Ill 

Oft  pausing  on  his  white-eyed  inward  look, 
Some  undermountain  narrative  he  tells, 

As  gapped  by  Lykian  heat  the  brook 
Cut  from  the  source  that  in  the  upland  swells. 

IV 

The  cottagers  who  dole  him  fruit  and  crust, 
With  patient  inattention  hear  him  prate  : 

And  comes  the  snow,  and  comes  the  dust. 
Comes  the  old  wanderer,  more  bent  of  Into. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  305 


A  crazy  beggar  grateful  for  a  meal 
Has  ever  of  himself  a  world  to  say. 

For  them  he  is  an  ancient  wheel 
Spinning  a  knotted  thread  the  livelong  day. 

VI 

He  cannot,  nor  do  they,  the  tale  connect ; 
For  never  singer  in  the  land  had  been 
Who  him  for  theme  did  not  reject : 
Spurned  of  the  hoof  that  sprang  the  Hippocrene, 

VII 

Albeit  a  theme  of  flame  to  bring  them  straight 
The  snorting  white-winged  brother  of  the  wave, 

They  hear  him  as  a  thing  by  fate 
Cursed  in  unholy  babble  to  his  grave. 

VIII 

As  men  that  spied  the  wings,  that  heard  the  snort, 
Their  sires  have  told  ;  and  of  a  martial  prince 

Bestriding  him  ;  and  old  report 
Speaks  of  a  monster  slain  by  one  long  since. 

IX 

There  is  that  story  of  the  golden  bit 

By  Goddess  given  to  tame  the  lightning  steed : 

A  mortal  who  could  mount,  and  sit 
Flying,  and  up  Olympus  midway  speed. 


306  BALLADS   AKD   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

X 

He  rose  like  the  loosed  fountain's  utmost  leap; 
He  played  the  star  at  span  of  heaven  right  o'er 

Men's  heads :  they  saw  the  snowy  steep, 
Saw  the  winged  shoulders  :  him  they  saw  not  more 

XI 

He  fell :  and  says  the  shattered  man,  I  fell : 
And  sweeps  an  arm  the  height  an  eagle  wins  j 

And  in  his  breast  a  mouthless  well 
Heaves  the  worn  patches  of  his  coat  of  skins. 

ZII 

Lo,  this  is  he  in  whom  the  surgent  springs 
Of  recollections  richer  than  our  skies 

To  feed  the  flow  of  tuneful  strings, 
Show  but  a  pool  of  scum  for  shooting  flies. 


ATTEMPTED    IN   THE    GALLIAMBIG    MEASURE. 

At  the  coming  up  of  Phoebus  the  all-luminous  charioteer, 

Double-visaged  stand  the  mountains  in  imperial  multi- 
tudes, 

And  with  shadows  dappled  men  sing  to  him,  Hail,  0  Benefi- 
cent! 

For  they  shudder  chill,  the  earth-vales,  at  his  clouding, 
shudder  to  black ; 

In  the  light  of  him  there  is  music  thro'  the  poplar  and 
river-sedge, 

Eenovation,  chirp  of  brooks,  hum  of  the  forest  —  an  ocean- 
song. 

Never  pearl  from  ocean-hollows  by  the  diver  exultingly, 

In  his  breathlessness,  above  thrust,  is  as  earth  to  Helios. 

Who  usurps  his  place  there,  rashest?  Aphrodite's  loved 
one  it  is ! 

To  his  son  the  flaming  Sun-God,  to  the  tender  youth, 
Phaethon, 

Rule  of  day  this  day  surrenders  as  a  thing  hereditary, 

Having  sworn  by  Styx  tremendous,  for  the  proof  of  his 
parentage. 

He  would  grant  his  son's  petition,  whatsoever  the  sign 
thereof. 


308  BALLADS  AND  POEMS  OF  TRAGIC  LIFE 

Then,  rejoiced,  the  stripling  answered:  'Rule  of  day  give 

me ;  give  it  me, 
*Give  me  place  that  men  may  see  me  how  I  blaze,  and 

transcendingly, 
*I,  divine,  proclaim  my  birthright.'     Darkened  Helios,  and 

his  utterance 
Choked  prophetic :  *  0  half  mortal ! '   he  exclaimed  in  an 

agony, 

*  0  lost  son  of  mine  I    lost  son !    No !  put  a  prayer  for 

another  thing : 
'Not  for  this:    insane  to  wish  it,  and  to  crave  the  gift 
impious ! 

*  Cannot  other  gifts  my  godhead  shed  upon  thee  ?  miracu- 

lous 
'  Mighty  gifts  to  prove  a  blessing,  that  to  earth  thou  shalt 
be  a  joy  ? 

*  Gifts  of  healing,  wherewith  men  walk  as  the  Gods  benefi- 

cently ; 
•As  a  God  to  sway  to  concord  hearts  of  men,  reconciling 
them ; 

*  Gifts  of  verse,  the  lyre,  the  laurel,  therewithal  that  thine 

origin 
'  Shall  be  known  even  as  when  /  strike  on  the  string'd  shell 

with  melody, 
'  And  the  golden  notes,  like  medicine,  darting  straight  to  the 

cavities, 
'  Fill  them  up,  till  hearts  of  men  bound  as  the  billows,  the 

ships  thereon.' 
Thus  intently  urged  the  Sun-God ;   but   the  force   of  his 

eloquence 
Was  the  pressing  on  of  sea-waves  scattered  broad  from  the 

rocks  away. 


BALLADS   AND  POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE  309 

What  shall  move   a  soul  from   madness  ?    Lost,  lost  in 

delirium, 
Kock-fast,  the  adolescent  to  his  father,  irreverent, 

*  By  the  oath  !  the  oath  !  thine  oath ! '  cried.    The  effulgent 

foreseer  then, 
Quivering  in   his  loins    parental,   on  the  boy's  beaming 

countenance 
Looked  and  moaned,  and  urged  him  for  love's  sake,  for 

sweet  life's  sake,  to  yield  the  claim, 
To  abandon  his  mad  hunger,  and  avert  the  calamity. 
But  he,  vehement,  passionate,  called  out :  '  Let  me  show  I 

am  what  I  say, 

*  That  the  taunts  I  hear  be  silenced :  I  am  stung  with  their 

whispering. 

*  Only,  Thou,  my  Father,  Thou  tell  how  aloft  the  revolving 

wheels, 

*  How  aloft  the  cleaving  horse-crests  I  may  guide  peremp- 

torily, 
<  Till  I  drink  the  shadows,  fire-hot,  like  a  flower  celestial, 
'  And  my  fellows  see  me  curbing  the  fierce  steeds,  the  dear 

dew-drinkers : 

*  Yea,  for  this  I  gaze  on  life's  light ;  throw  for  this  any 

sacrifice.' 

All  the  end  foreseeing,  Phoebus,  to  his  oath  irrevocable. 

Bowed  obedient,  deploring  the  insanity  pitiless. 

Then  the  flame-outsnorting  horses  were  led  forth  :  it  was  so 

decreed. 
They  were  yoked  before   the  glad  youth  by  his   sister- 

ancillaries. 
Swift  the  ripple  ripples  follow'd,  as  of  aureate  Helicon, 


310  BAIiLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

Down  their  flanks,  while  they  impatient  pawed  desire  of 

the  distances, 
And  the  bit  with  fury  champed.   Oh  !  unimaginable  delight! 
Unimagined  speed  and  splendour  in  the  circle  of  upper  air ! 
Glory  grander  than  the   armed   host  upon   earth    singing 

victory ! 
Chafed  the   youth  with   their  spirit   surcharged,  as  when 

blossom  is  shaken  by  winds. 
Marked  that  labour  by  his  sister  Phaethontiades  finished, 

quick 
On  the  slope  of  the  car  his  forefoot  set  assured :  and  the 

morning  rose  : 
Seeing  whom,  and  what  a  day  dawned,  stood  the  God,  as  in 

harvest  fields. 
When  the  reaper  grasps  the  full  sheaf  and  the  sickle  that 

severs  it : 
Hugged  the  withered  head  with  one  hand,  with  the  other, 

to  indicate 
(If  this  woe  might  be  averted,  this  immeasurable  evil), 
Laid  the  kindling  course  in  view,  told  how  the  reins  to 

manipulate  : 
Named    the    horses    fondly,    fearful,   caution'd    urgently 

betweenwhiles : 
Their  diverging  tempers  dwelt  on,  and  their  wantonness, 

wickedness, 
That  the  voice  of  Gods  alone  held  in  restraint;  but  tho 

voice  of  Gods ; 
None  but  Gods  can  curb.     He  spake  ;  vain  were  the  words/ 

scarcely  listening, 
Mounted  Phaethon,  swini'ing  reins  loose,  and,  'Behold  me, 

companions, 


BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OP  TRAGIC   LIFE  311 

*  It  is  I  here,  I ! '  he  shouted,  glancing  down  with  supremacy ; 

*  Not  to  any  of  you  was  this  gift  granted  ever  in  annals  of 

men; 

*  I  alone  what  only  Gods  can,  I  alone  am  governing  day ! ' 
Short  the   triumph,   brief    his   rapture :    see   a   hurricane 

suddenly 
Beat  the  lifting  billow  crestless,  roll  it  broken  this  way  and 

that ;  — 
At  the  leap  on  yielding  ether,  in  despite  of  his  reprimand, 
Swayed  tumultuous  the  fire-steeds,  plunging  reckless  hither 

and  yon ; 
Unto  men  a  great  amazement,  all  agaze  at  the  Troubled 

East :  — 
Pitifully  for  mastery  striving  in  ascension,  the  charioteer, 
Reminiscent,  drifts  of  counsel  caught  confused  in  his  arid 

wits ; 
The  reins  stiff  ahind  his  shoulder  madly  pulled  for  the 

mastery. 
Till  a  thunder  off  the  tense  chords  thro'  his  ears  dinned 

horrible. 
Panic  seized  him :  fled  his  vision  of  inviolability ; 
Fled  the  dream  that  he  of  mortals  rode  mischances  pre- 
dominant ; 
And  he  cried, '  Had  I  petitioned  for  a  cup  of  chill  aconite, 

*  My  descent  to  awful  Hades  had  been  soft,  for  now  must 

I  go 
'With  the  curse  by  father  Zeus  cast  on  ambition  immoderate. 
*0h,  my  sisters!     Thou,  my  Goddess,  in  whose  love  I  was 

enviable, 

*  From  whose  arms  I  rushed  befrenzied,  what  a  wreck  will 

this  body  be, 


312  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

'That  admired  of  thee  stood  rose- warm  in  the  courts  where 
thy  mysteries 

*  Celebration  had  from  me,  me  the  most  splendidly  privi- 

leged ! 

*  Never  more  shall  I  thy  temple  fill  with  incenses  bewilder- 

ing; 

*  Not  again  hear  thy  half -murmurs  —  I  am  lost !  —  never, 

never  more. 

*  I  am  wrecked  on  seas  of  air,  hurled  to  my  death  in  a  vessel 

of  flame ! 
'  Hither,  sisters !     Father,  save  me  !     Hither,  succour  me, 
Cyprial' 

Now  a  wail  of  men  to  Zeus  rang :  from  Olympus  the 
Thunderer 

Saw  the  rage  of  the  havoc  wide-mouthed,  the  bright  car 
superimpending 

Over  Asia,  Africa,  low  down  ;  ruin  flaming  over  the  vales ; 

Light  disastrous  rising  savage  out  of  smoke  inveterately ; 

Beast-black,  conflagration  like  a  menacing  shadow  move 

With  voracious  roaring  southward,  where  aslant,  insuffer- 
able, 

The  bright  steeds  careered  their  parched  way  down  an  arc 
of  the  firmament. 

For  the  day  grew  like  to  thick  night,  and  the  orb  was  its 
beacon-fire. 

And  from  hill  to  hill  of  darkness  burst  the  day's  apparition 
forth. 

Lo,  a  wrestler,  not  a  God,  stood  in  the  chariot  ever  lowering: 

Lo,  the  shape  of  one  who  raced  there  to  outstrip  the  legiti- 
mate hours : 


BALLADS   AND   POEMS    OF   TRAGIC   LITE  313 

Lo,  the  ravish'd  beams  of  Phoebus  dragged  in  shame  at  the 
chariot-wheels  : 

Light  of  days  of  happy  pipings  by  the  mead-singing 
rivulets ! 

Lo,  lo,  increasing  lustre,  torrid  breath  to  the  nostrils ;  lo, 

Torrid  brilliancies  thro'  the  vapours  lighten  swifter,  pene- 
trate them, 

Fasten  merciless,  ruminant,  hueless,  on  earth's  frame  crack- 
ling busily. 

He  aloft,  the  frenzied  driver,  in  the  glow  of  the  universe, 

Like  the  paling  of  the  dawn-star  withers  visibly,  he  aloft : 

Bitter  fury  in  his  aspect,  bitter  death  in  the  heart  of  him. 

Crouch  the  herds,  contract  the  reptiles,  crouch  the  lions 
under  their  paws. 

White  as  metal  in  the  furnace  are  the  faces  of  human- 
kind: 

Inarticulate  creatures  of  earth,  dumb  all  await  the  ultimate 
shock. 

To  the  bolt  he  launched,  '  Strike  dead,  thou,'  uttered  Zeus, 

very  terrible ; 
'Perish  folly,  else  'tis   man's  fate';  and  the  bolt  flew 

unerringly. 
Then  the  kindler  stooped ;   from  the  torch-car  down  the 

measureless  altitudes 
Leaned  his  rayless  head,  relinquished   rein   and   footing, 

raised  not  a  cry. 
Like  the  flower  on  the  river's  surface  when  expanding  it 

vanishes, 
Gave  his  limbs  to  right  and  left,  quenched :  and  so  fell  he 

precipitate. 


314  BALLADS   AND   POEMS   OF   TRAGIC   LIFE 

Seen  of  men  as  a  glad  rain-fall,  sending  coolness  yet  ere  it 
comes : 

So  he  showered  above  them,  shadowed  o'er  the  blue  archi- 
pelagoes, 

O'er  the  silken-shining  pastures  of  the  continents  and  the 
isles ; 

So  descending  brought  revival  to  the  greenery  of  our  earth. 

Lither,  noisy  in  the  breezes  now  his  sisters  shivering  weep. 
By  the  river  flowing  smooth  out  to  the  vexed  sea  of  Adria, 
Where  he  fell,  and  where  they  suffered  sudden  change  to 

the  tremulous 
Ever-wailful  trees  bemoaning  him,  a  bruised  purple  cycla- 
men. 


A  READING  OF  EARTH 
SEED-TIME 


Flowers  of  the  willow-herb  are  wool; 
Flowers  of  the  briar  berries  red; 
Speeding  their  seed  as  the  breeze  may  rule, 
Flowers  of  the  thistle  loosen  the  thread. 
Flowers  of  the  clematis  drip  in  beard, 
Slack  from  the  fir-tree  youngly  climbed; 
Chaplets  in  air,  flies  foliage  seared; 
Heeled  upon  earth,  lie  clusters  rimed. 

II 

Where  were  skies  of  the  mantle  stained 
Orange  and  scarlet,  a  coat  of  frieze 
Travels  from  North  till  day  has  waned, 
Tattered,  soaked  in  the  ditch's  dyes; 
Tumbles  the  rook  under  grey  or  slate; 
Else  enfolding  us,  damps  to  the  bone; 
Narrows  the  world  to  my  neighbour's  gate; 
Paints  me  Life  as  a  wheezy  crone. 


316  A  READING  OF  EAETH 


III 

Now  seems  none  but  the  spider  lord; 

Star  in  circle  his  web  waits  prey, 

Silvering  bush-mounds,  blue  brushing  sward; 

Slow  runs  the  hour,  swift  flits  the  ray. 

Now  to  his  thread-shroud  is  he  nigh. 

Nigh  to  the  tangle  where  wings  are  sealed. 

He  who  frolicked  the  jewelled  fly; 

All  is  adroop  on  the  down  and  the  weald. 

IV 

Mists  more  lone  for  the  sheep-bell  enwrap 
Nights  that  tardily  let  slip  a  morn 
Paler  than  moons,  and  on  noontide's  lap 
Flame  dies  cold,  like  the  rose  late  born. 
Rose  born  late,  born  withered  in  bud!  — 
I,  even  I,  for  a  zenith  of  sun 
Cry,  to  fulfil  me,  nourish  my  blood: 
O  for  a  day  of  the  long  light,  one  I 


Master  the  blood,  nor  read  by  chills. 

Earth  admonishes:  Hast  thou  ploughed, 
Sown,  reaped,  harvested  grain  for  the  mills, 
Thou  hast  the  liglit  over  shadow  of  cloud. 
Steadily  eyeing,  before  tliat  wail 
Animal-infant,  thy  mind  began. 
Momently  nearer  me:  should  sight  fail, 
Plod  in  the  track  of  the  husbandman. 


A  BEADING   OF   EARTH  317 


VI 

Verily  now  is  our  season  of  seed, 

Now  in  our  Autumn;  and  Earth  discerns 

Them  that  have  served  her  in  them  that  can  read, 

Glassing,  where  under  the  surface  she  burns, 

Quick  at  her  wheel,  while  the  fuel,  decay, 

Brightens  the  fire  of  renewal:  and  we? 

Death  is  the  word  of  a  bovine  day. 

Know  you  the  breast  of  the  springing  To-be. 


i^rutff    w     ucuu/>u^       w««y;> 


HAED  WEATHER 

Bursts  from  a  rending  East  in  flaws 

The  young  green  leaflet's  harrier,  sworn 

To  strew  the  garden,  strip  the  shaws, 

And  show  our  Spring  with  banner  torn. 

Was  ever  such  virago  morn? 

The  wind  has  teeth,  the  wind  has  claws. 

All  the  wind's  wolves  through  woods  are  loose, 

The  wild  wind's  falconry  aloft. 

Shrill  underfoot  the  grassblade  shrews, 

At  gallop,  clumped,  and  down  the  croft 

Bestrid  by  shadows,  beaten,  tossed; 

It  seems  a  scythe,  it  seems  a  rod. 

The  howl  is  up  at  the  howl's  accost; 

The  shivers  greet  and  the  shivers  nod. 

Is  the  land  ship?  we  are  rolled,  we  drive 
Tritonly,  cleaving  hiss  and  hum; 
Wliirl  witli  the  dead,  or  mount  or  dive, 
Or  down  in  dregs,  or  on  in  scum. 
And  drums  the  distant,  pipes  the  near. 
And  vale  and  hill  are  grey  in  grey. 
As  when  the  surge  is  crumbling  sheer, 
And  sea-mews  wing  the  haze  of  spray. 
Clouds  —  are  they  bony  witches?  —  swarms, 
Darting  swift  on  the  robber's  flight. 
Hurry  an  infant  sky  in  arms: 
It  peeps,  it  becks;  'tis  day,  'tis  night. 


A  EEADING   OF   EAKTH  319 

Black  while  over  the  loop  of  blue  • 

The  swathe  is  closed,  like  shroud  on  corse. 
Lo,  as  if  swift  the  Furies  flew, 
The  Fates  at  heel  at  a  cry  to  horse! 

Interpret  me  the  savage  whirr: 
And  is  it  Nature  scourged,  or  she, 
Her  offspring's  executioner, 
Reducing  land  to  barren  sea? 
But  is  there  meaning  in  a  day 
When  this  fierce  angel  of  the  air, 
Intent  to  throw,  and  haply  slay, 
Can,  for  what  breath  of  life  we  bear, 
Exact  the  wrestle?    Call  to  mind 
The  many  meanings  glistening  up 
When  Nature  to  her  nurslings  kind, 
Hands  them  the  fruitage  and  the  cup  I 
And  seek  we  rich  significance 
Not  otherwhere  than  with  those  tides 
Of  pleasure  on  the  sunned  expanse, 
Whose  flow  deludes,  whose  ebb  derides? 

Look  in  the  face  of  men  who  fare 

Lock-mouthed,  a  match  in  lungs  and  thews 

For  this  fierce  angel  of  the  air. 

To  twist  with  him  and  take  his  bruise. 

That  is  the  face  beloved  of  old 

Of  Earth,  young  mother  of  her  brood: 

Nor  broken  for  us  shows  the  mould 

When  muscle  is  in  mind  renewed: 

Though  farther  from  her  nature  rude^ 

Yet  nearer  to  her  spirit's  hold: 


320  A  READING   OF  EARTH 

And  though  of  gentler  mood  serene, 
Still  forceful  of  her  fountain-jet. 
(  So  shall  her  blows  be  shrewdly  met, ' 
Be  luminously  read  the  scene 
Where  Life  is  at  her  grindstone  set. 
That  she  may  give  us  edgeing  keen, 
String  us  for  battle,  till  as  play 
The  common  strokes  of  fortune  shower. 
Such  meaning  in  a  dagger-day 
Our  wits  may  clasp  to  wax  in  power. 
Yea,  feel  us  warmer  at  her  breast, 
I  By  spin  of  blood  in  lusty  drill, 
(Than  when  her  honeyed  hands  caressed, 
And  Pleasure,  sapping,  seemed  to  fill. 

Behold  the  life  at  ease;  it  drifts. 

The  sharpened  life  commands  its  course. 

She  winnows,  winnows  roughly;  sifts, 

To  dip  her  chosen  in  her  source: 

Contention  is  the  vital  force, 

Whence  pluck  they  brain,  her  prize  of  gifts. 

Sky  of  the  senses!  on  which  height. 

Not  disconnected,  yet  released, 

They  see  how  spirit  comes  to  light, 

Through  conquest  of  the  inner  beast. 

Which  Measure  tames  to  movement  sane. 

In  harmony  with  what  is  fair. 

Never  is  Earth  misread  by  brain: 

That  is  the  welling  of  her,  there 

The  mirror:  with  one  step  beyond, 

For  likewise  is  it  voice;  and  more, 


y 


A  READING   OS'   EAJITH  ^^1 

Benignest  kinship  bids  respond, 
When  wail  the  weak,  and  then  restore 
Whom  days  as  fell  as  this  may  rive, 
While  Earth  sits  ebon  in  her  gloom, 
Us  atomies  of  life  alive 
Unheeding,  bent  on  life  to  come. 
Her  children  of  the  labouring  brain, 
These  are  the  champions  of  the  race. 
True  parents,  and  the  sole  humane, 
With  understanding  for  their  base. 
Earth  yields  the  milk,  but  all  her  mind 
Is  vowed  to  thresh  for  stouter  stock. 
Her  passion  for  old  giantkind, 
That  scaled  the  mount,  uphurled  the  rock, 
Devolves  on  them  who  read  aright 
Her  meaning  and  devoutly  serve; 
Nor  in  her  starlessness  of  night 
Peruse  her  with  the  craven  nerve: 
But  even  as  she  from  grass  to  corn, 
To  eagle  high  from  grubbing  mole, 
Prove  in  strong  brain  her  noblest  born, 
The  station  for  the  flight  of  soul. 


21 


THE  SOUTH-WESTER 

Day  of  the  cloud  in  fleets !     0  day 

Of  wedded  white  and  blue,  that  sail 

Immingled,  with  a  footing  ray 

In  shadow-sandals  down  our  vale !  — 

And  swift  to  ravish  golden  meads, 

Swift  up  the  run  of  turf  it  speeds, 

Thy  bright  of  head  and  dark  of  heel, 

To  where  the  hilltop  flings  on  sky, 

As  hawk  from  wrist  or  dust  from  wheel, 

The  tiptoe  scalers  tossed  to  fly :  — 

Thee  the  last  thunder's  caverned  peal 

Delivered  from  a  wailful  night: 

All  dusky  round  thy  cradled  light, 

Those  brine-born  issues,  now  in  bloom 

Transfigured,  wreathed  as  raven's  plume 

And  briony-leaf  to  watch  thee  lie : 

Dark  eyebrows  o'er  a  dreamful  eye 

Nigh  opening:  till  in  the  braid 

Of  purpled  vapours  thou  wert  rosed : 

Till  that  new  babe  a  Goddess  maid 

Appeared  and  vividly  disclosed 

Her  beat  of  life:  then  crimson  played 

On  edges  of  the  plume  and  leaf: 

Shape  had  they  and  fair  feature  brief, 

The  wings,  the  smiles :  they  flew  the  breast, 

Earth's  milk.     But  what  imperial  march 


A  READIKG   OF  EARTH  323 

Their  standards  led  for  earth,  none  guessed 

Ere  upward  of  a  coloured  arch, 

An  arrow  straining  eager  head 

Lightened,  and  high  for  zenith  sped. 

Fierier  followed;  followed  Fire. 

Name  the  young  lord  of  Earth's  desire, 

Whose  look  her  wine  is,  and  whose  mouth 

Her  music!     Beauteous  was  she  seen 

Beneath  her  midway  West  of  South; 

And  sister  was  her  quivered  green 

To  sapphire  of  the  Nereid  eyes 

On  sea  when  sun  is  breeze;  she  winked 

As  they,  and  waved,  heaved  waterwise 

Her  flood  of  leaves  and  grasses  linked : 

A  myriad  lustrous  butterflies 

A  moment  in  the  fluttering  sheen ; 

Becapped  with  the  slate  air  that  throwa 

The  reindeer's  antlers  black  between 

Low-frowning  and  wide-fallen  snows, 

A  minute  after;  hooded,  stoled 

To  suit  a  graveside  Season's  dirge. 

Lo,  but  the  breaking  of  a  surge. 

And  she  is  in  her  lover's  fold, 

Illumined  o'er  a  boundless  range 

Anew :  and  through  quick  morning  hours 

The  Tropic-Arctic  counterchange 

Did  seem  to  pant  in  beams  and  showers. 

But  noon  beheld  a  larger  heaven; 
Beheld  on  our  reflecting  field 
The  Sower  to  the  Boaver  given. 
And  both  their  inner  sweetest  yield, 


324  A   READING  OF   EARTH 

Fresh  as  when  dews  were  grey  or  first 

Received  the  flush  of  hues  athirst. 

Heard  we  the  woodland,  eyeing  sun, 

A.S  harp  and  harper  were  they  one. 

A.  murky  cloud  a  fair  pursued, 

Assailed,  and  felt  the  limbs  elude: 

He  sat  him  down  to  pipe  his  woe, 

And  some  strange  beast  of  sky  became : 

A  giant's  club  withheld  the  blow; 

A  milky  cloud  went  all  to  flame. 

And  there  were  groups  where  silvery  springs 

The  ethereal  forest  showed  begirt 

By  companies  in  choric  rings. 

Whom  but  to  see  made  ear  alert. 

For  music  did  each  movement  rouse, 

And  motion  was  a  minstrel's  rage 

To  have  our  spirits  out  of  house, 

And  bathe  them  on  the  open  page. 


This  was  a  day  that  knew  not  age. 

Since  flew  the  vapoury  twos  and  threes 

From  western  pile  to  eastern  rack; 

As  on  from  peaks  of  Pyrenees 

To  Graians;  youngness  ruled  the  track. 

When  songful  beams  were  shut  in  caves, 

And  rainy  drapery  swept  across; 

When  the  ranked  clouds  were  downy  waves. 

Breast  of  swan,  eagle,  albatross. 

In  ordered  lines  to  screen  the  blue. 

Youngest  of  light  was  nigh,  we  knew. 


A   READING   OF   EARTH  325 

The  silver  finger  of  it  laughed 
Along  the  narrow  rift :  it  shot, 
Slew  the  huge  gloom  with  golden  shaft, 
Then  haled  on  high  the  volumed  blot, 
To  build  the  hurling  palace,  cleave 
The  dazzling  chasm;  the  flying  nests, 
The  many  glory-garlands  weave, 
Whose  presence  not  our  sight  attests 
Till  wonder  with  the  splendour  blent, 
And  passion  for  the  beauty  flown, 
Make  evanescence  permanent. 
The  thing  at  heart  our  endless  own. 

Only  at  gathered  eve  knew  we 

The  marvels  of  the  day :  for  then 

Mount  upon  mountain  out  of  sea 

Arose,  and  to  our  spacious  ken 

Trebled  sublime  Olympus  round 

In  towering  amphitheatre. 

Colossal  on  enormous  mound, 

Majestic  gods  we  saw  confer. 

They  wafted  the  Dream-messenger 

From  off  the  loftiest,  the  crowned: 

That  Lady  of  the  iiues  of  foam 

In  sun-rays :  who,  close  under  dome, 

A  figure  on  the  foot's  descent, 

Irradiate  to  vapour  went, 

As  one  whose  mission  was  resigned; 

Dispieced,  undraped,  dissolved  to  threads. 

Melting  she  passed  into  the  mind, 

Where  immortal  with  mortal  weds. 


326  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

Whereby  was  known  that  we  had  viewed 
The  union  of  our  earth  and  skies 
Benewed:  nor  less  alive  renewed 
Than  when  old  bards,  in  nature  wise, 
Conceived  pure  beauty  given  to  eyes, 
And  with  undyingness  imbued. 
Pageant  of  man's  poetic  brain, 
His  grand  procession  of  the  song, 
It  was;  the  Muses  and  their  train; 
Their  God  to  lead  the  glittering  throng; 
At  whiles  a  beat  of  forest  gong; 
At  whiles  a  glimpse  of  Python  slain. 
Mostly  divinest  harmony, 
The  lyre,  the  dance.     We  could  believe 
A  life  in  orb  and  brook  and  tree 
And  cloud :  and  still  holds  Memory 
A  morning  in  the  eyes  of  eve. 


THE  THRUSH  IN  FEBRUARY 

I  KNOW  him,  February's  thrush, 

And  loud  at  eve  he  valentines 

On  sprays  that  paw  the  naked  bush 

Where  soon  will  sprout  the  thorns  and  bines. 

Now  ere  the  foreign  singer  thrills 
Our  vale  his  plain-song  pipe  he  pours, 
A  herald  of  the  million  bills; 
And  heed  him  not,  the  loss  is  yours. 

My  study,  flanked  with  ivied  fir 

And  budded  beech  with  dry  leaves  curled, 

Perched  over  yew  and  juniper. 

He  neighbours,  piping  to  his  world :  — 

The  wooded  pathways  dank  on  brown, 
The  branches  on  grey  cloud  a  web. 
The  long  green  roller  of  the  down, 
An  image  of  the  deluge-ebb :  — 

And  farther,  they  may  hear  along 
The  stream  beneath  the  poplar  row. 
By  fits,  like  welling  rocks,  the  song 
Spouts  of  a  blushful  Spring  in  flow. 


328  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

But  most  he  loves  to  front  the  vale 
When  waves  of  warm  South-western  rains 
Have  left  our  heavens  clear  in  pale, 
With  faintest  beck  of  moist  red  veins : 


Vermilion  wings,  by  distance  held 
To  pause  aflight  while  fleeting  swift: 
And  high  aloft  the  pearl  inshelled 
Her  lucid  glow  in  glow  will  liftj 

A  little  south  of  coloured  sky; 
Directing,  gravely  amorous, 
The  human  of  a  tender  eye 
Through  pure  celestial  on  us: 

Remote,  not  alien;  still,  not  cold; 
Unraying  yet,  more  pearl  than  star; 
She  seems  a  while  the  vale  to  hold 
In  trance,  and  homelier  makes  the  far. 

Then  Earth  her  sweet  unscented  breathes; 
An  orb  of  lustre  quits  the  height; 
And  like  broad  iris-flags,  in  wreaths 
The  sky  takes  darkness,  long  ere  quite. 

His  Island  voice  then  shall  you  hear, 
Nor  ever  after  separate 
From  such  a  twilight  of  tlie  year 
Advancing  to  the  vernal  gate. 


A   BEADING   OF   EARTH  329 

He  sings  me,  out  of  Winter's  throat, 
The  young  time  with  the  life  ahead; 
And  my  young  time  his  leaping  note 
Recalls  to  spirit-mirth  from  dead. 

Imbedded  in  a  land  of  greed, 
Of  mammon-quakings  dire  as  Earth's, 
My  care  was  but  to  soothe  my  need; 
At  peace  among  the  little  worths. 

To  light  and  song  my  yearning  aimed; 
To  that  deep  breast  of  song  and  light 
Which  men  have  barreuest  proclaimed; 
As  't  is  to  senses  pricked  with  fright. 

So  mine  are  these  new  fruitings  rich 
The  simple  to  the  common  brings ; 
I  keep  the  youth  of  souls  who  pitch 
Their  joy  in  this  old  heart  of  things: 


Who  feel  the  Coming  young  as  aye, 
Thrice  hopeful  on  the  ground  we  plough; 
Alive  for  life,  awake  to  die ; 
One  voice  to  cheer  the  seedling  Now. 

Full  lasting  is  the  song,  though  he, 
The  singer,  passes:  lasting  too, 
For  souls  not  lent  in  usury, 
The  rapture  of  the  forward  view. 


M' 


)30  A   READING   OF  EARTH 

.    With  that  I  bear  ray  senses  fraught 
Till  what  I  am  fast  shoreward  drives. 
They  are  the  vessel  of  the  Thought. 
The  vessel  splits,  the  Thought  survives. 


Nought  else  are  we  when  sailing  brave, 
Save  husks  to  raise  and  bid  it  burn. 
Glimpse  of  its  livingness  will  wave 
A  light  the  senses  can  discern 

Across  the  river  of  the  death, 

Their  close.     Meanwhile,  0  twilight  bird 

Of  promise!  bird  of  happy  breath  1 

I  hear,  I  would  the  City  heard. 

The  City  of  the  smoky  fray; 
A  prodded  ox,  it  drags  and  moans : 
Its  Morrow  no  man's  child ;  its  Day 
A  vulture's  morsel  beaked  to  bones. 

'it  strives  without  a  mark  for  strife; 

,  It  feasts  beside  a  famished  host: 
The  loose  restraint  of  wanton  life. 
That  threatened  penance  in  the  ghost! 

Yet  there  our  battle  urges ;  there 
{Spring  heroes  many:  issuing  thence, 
Names  that  should  leave  no  vacant  air 
For  fresh  delight  in  confidence. 


/ 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  331 

Life  was  to  them  the  bag  of  grain, 
And  Death  the  weedy  harrow's  tooth. 
Those  warriors  of  the  sighting  brain 
Give  worn  Humanity  new  youth. 


Our  song  and  star  are  they  to  lead 
The  tidal  multitude  and  blind 
From  bestial  to  the  higher  breed 
By  fighting  souls  of  love  divined. 

They  scorned  the  ventral  dream  of  peace, 
Unknown  in  nature.     This  they  knew : 
That  life  begets  with  fair  increase 
Beyond  the  flesh,  if  life  be  true. 

Just  reason  based  on  valiant  blood, 
The  instinct  bred  afield  would  match 
To  pipe  thereof  a  swelling  flood, 
Were  men  of  Earth  made  wise  in  watch. 

Though  now  the  numbers  count  as  drops 
An  urn  might  bear,  they  father  Time. 
She  shapes  anew  her  dusty  crops ; 
Her  quick  in  their  own  likeness  climb. 

Of  their  own  force  do  they  create ; 
They  climb  to  light,  in  her  their  root. 
Your  brutish  cry  at  muffled  fate 
She  smites  with  pangs  of  worse  than  brute. 


332  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

^'  She,  judged  of  shrinking  nerves,  appears 

A  Mother  whom  no  cry  can  melt; 
But  read  her  past  desires  and  fears, 
The  letters  on  her  breast  are  spelt. 

A  slayer,  yea,  as  when  she  pressed 
Her  savage  to  the  slaughter-heaps, 
To  sacrifice  she  prompts  her  best: 
She  reaps  them  as  the  sower  reaps. 

'But  read  her  thought  to  speed  the  race, 
/And  stars  rush  forth  of  blackest  night: 
You  chill  not  at  a  cold  embrace 
To  come,  nor  dread  a  dubious  might. 

Her  double  visage,  double  voice, 
In  oneness  rise  to  quench  the  doubt. 
This  breath,  her  gift,  has  only  choice 
Of  service,  breathe  we  in  or  out. 

Since  Pain  and  Pleasure  on  each  hand 
Led  our  wild  steps  from  slimy  rock 
To  yonder  sweeps  of  gardenland, 
We  breathe  but  to  be  sword  or  block. 


The  sighting  brain  her  good  decree 
Accepts ;  obeys  those  guides,  in  faith, 
By  reason  hourly  fed,  that  she. 
To  some  the  clod,  to  some  the  wraith, 


A  BEADING  OF  EARTH  333 

Is  more,  no  mask ;  a  flame,  a  stream. 
Flame,  stream,  are  we,  in  mid  career 
From  torrent  source,  delirious  dream, 
To  heaven-reflecting  currents  clear. 

And  why  the  sons  of  Strength  have  been 
Her  cherished  offspring  ever;  how 
The  Spirit  served  by  her  is  seen 
Through  Law;  perusing  love  will  show. 

Love  born  of  knowledge,  love  that  gains 
Vitality  as  Earth  it  mates, 
The  meaning  of  the  Pleasures,  Pains, 
The  Life,  the  Death,  illuminates. 

For  love  we  Earth,  then  serve  we  all; 
Her  mystic  secret  then  is  ours : 
We  fall,  or  view  our  treasures  fall, 
Unclouded,  as  beholds  her  flowers 

Earth,  from  a  night  of  frosty  wreck, 
Enrobed  in  morning's  mounted  fire, 
When  lowly,  with  a  broken  neck. 
The  crocus  lays  her  cheek  to  mire. 


THE  APPEASEMENT  OF  DEMETEB 


Demeteb  devastated  our  good  land, 
In  blackness  for  her  daughter  snatched  below. 
Smoke-pillar  or  loose  hillock  was  the  sand, 
Where  soil  had  been  to  clasp  warm  seed  and  throw 
The  wheat,  vine,  olive,  ripe  to  Summer's  ray. 
Now  whether  night  advancing,  whetlier  day, 

Scarce  did  the  baldness  show: 
The  hand  of  man  was  a  defeated  hand. 


Necessity,  the  primal  goad  to  growth, 

Stood  shrunken;  Youth  and  Age  appeared  as  one; 

Like  Winter  Summer;  good  as  labour  sloth; 

Nor  was  there  answer  wherefore  beamed  the  sun, 

Or  wliy  men  drew  the  breath  to  carry  pain. 

High  reared  the  ploughshare,  broken  lay  the  wain, 

Idly  the  flax-wheel  spun 
Unridered :  starving  lords  were  wasp  and  moth. 


A  READING  OF  EABTH  335 


m 

Lean  grassblades  losing  green  on  their  bent  flags, 

Sang  chilly  to  themselves;  lone  honey-bees 

Pursued  the  flowers  that  were  not  with  dry  bags ; 

Sole  sound  aloud  the  snap  of  sapless  trees, 

More  sharp  than  slingstones  on  hard  breastplates  hurled. 

Back  to  first  chaos  tumbled  the  stopped  world, 

Careless  to  lure  or  please. 
A  nature  of  gaunt  ribs,  an  Earth  of  crags. 

IV 

No  smile  Demeter  cast:  the  gloom  she  saw, 

Well  draped  her  direful  musing;  for  in  gloom, 

In  thicker  gloom,  deep  down  the  cavern-maw, 

Her  sweet  had  vanished;  liker  unto  whom. 

And  whose  pale  place  of  habitation  mute, 

She  and  all  seemed  where  seasons,  pledged  for  fruit 

Anciently,  gaped  for  bloom : 
Where  hand  of  man  was  as  a  plucked  fowl's  claw. 


The  wrathful  Queen  descended  on  a  vale, 

That  ere  the  ravished  hour  for  richness  heaved. 

lambe,  maiden  of  the  merry  tale. 

Beside  her  eyed  the  once  red-cheeked,  green-leaved. 

It  looked  as  if  the  Deluge  had  withdrawn. 

Pity  caught  at  her  throat;  her  jests  were  gone. 

More  than  for  her  who  grieved, 
She  could  for  this  waste  home  have  piped  the  wail. 


336  A  READING   OF   EARTH 


n 

lambe,  her  dear  mountain-rivulet 

To  waken  laughter  from  cold  stones,  beheld 

A  riven  wheatfield  cracking  for  the  wet, 

And  seed  like  infant's  teeth,  that  never  swelled, 

Apeep  up  flinty  ridges,  milkless  round. 

Teeth  of  the  giants  marked  she  where  thin  ground 

Rocky  in  spikes  rebelled 
Against  the  hand  here  slack  as  rotted  net. 

VII 

The  valley  people  up  the  ashen  scoop 
She  beckoned,  aiming  hopelessly  to  win 
Her  Mistress  in  compassion  of  yon  group 
So  pinched  and  wizened ;  with  their  aged  grin, 
For  lack  of  warmth  to  smile  on  mouths  of  woe, 
White  as  in  chalk  outlining  little  0 

Dumb,  from  a  falling  chin; 
Young,  old,  alike  half-bent  to  make  the  hoop. 

VIII 

Their  tongues  of  birds  they  wagged,  weak-voiced  as  when 

Dark  underwaters  tlie  recesses  choke; 

With  cluck  and  upper  quiver  of  a  hen 

In  grasp,  past  pecking:  cry  before  tlie  croak. 

Relentlessly  their  gold-haired  Heaven,  their  fount 

Bountiful  of  old  days,  heard  them  recount 

This  and  that  cruel  stroke: 
Nor  eye  nor  ear  had  slie  for  piteous  men. 


A  READING  OF  EARTH  337 

IX 

A  figure  of  black  rock  by  sunbeams  crowned 

Through  stormclouds,  where  the  volumed  shades  enfold 

An  earth  in  awe  before  the  claps  resound 

And  woods  and  dwellings  are  as  billows  rolled, 

The  barren  Nourisher  unmelted  shed 

Death  from  the  looks  that  wandered  with  the  dead 

Out  of  the  realms  of  gold, 
In  famine  for  Her  lost,  her  lost  unfound. 


lambe  from  her  Mistress  tripped;  she  raised 

The  cattle-call  above  the  moan  of  prayer; 

And  slowly  out  of  fields  their  fancy  grazed, 

Among  the  droves,  defiled  a  horse  and  mare : 

The  wrecks  of  horse  and  mare :  such  ribs  as  view 

Seas  that  have  struck  brave  ships  ashore,  while  through 

Shoots  the  swift  foamspit:  bare 
They  nodded,  and  Demeter  on  them  gazed. 

XI 

Ilowbeit  the  season  of  the  dancing  blood, 

Forgot  was  horse  of  mare,  yea,  mare  of  horse : 

Reversed,  each  head  at  cither's  flank,  they  stood. 

Whereat  the  Goddess,  in  a  dim  remorse, 

Laid  hand  on  them,  and  smacked;  and  her  touch  pricked. 

Neighing  within,  at  cither's  flank  they  licked; 

Played  on  a  moment's  force 
At  courtship,  withering  to  the  crazy  nod. 


338  A  READING  OF   EARTH 

XII 

The  nod  was  that  we  gather  for  consent; 
And  mournfully  amid  the  group  a  dame, 
Interpreting  the  thing  in  nature  meant, 
Her  hands  held  out  like  bearers  of  the  flame, 
And  nodded  for  the  negative  sideways. 
Keen  at  her  Mistress  glanced  lambe :  rays 
From  the  Great  Mother  isame: 
Her  lips  were  opened  widej  the  curse  was  rent. 

XIII 

She  laughed :  since  our  first  harvesting  heard  none 
Like  thunder  of  the  song  of  heart :  her  face, 
The  dreadful  darkness,  shook  to  mounted  sun, 
And  peal  on  peal  across  the  hills  held  chase. 
She  laughed  herself  to  water;  laughed  to  fire; 
Laughed  the  torrential  laugh  of  dam  and  sire 

Full  of  the  marrowy  race. 
Her  laughter,  Gods!  was  flesh  on  skeleton. 

XIV 

The  valley  people  huddled,  broke,  afraid, 

Assured,  and  taking  lightning  in  the  veins. 

They  puffed,  they  leaped,  linked  hands,  together  swayed, 

Unwitting  happiness  till  golden  rains 

Of  tears  in  laugliter,  laughter  weeping,  smote 

Knowledge  of  milky  mercy  from  that  throat 

Pouring  to  heal  their  pains: 
And  one  bold  youth  set  mouth  at  a  shy  maid. 


A  READING  OF  EARTH  339 


XV 

lambe  clapped  to  see  the  kindly  lusts 
Inspire  the  valley  people,  still  on  seas, 
Like  poplar-tops  relieved  from  stress  of  gusts, 
With  rapture  in  their  wonderment;  but  these, 
Low  homage  being  rendered,  ran  to  plough, 
Fed  by  the  laugh,  as  by  the  mother  cow 

Calves  at  the  teats  they  tease : 
Soon  drove  they  through  the  yielding  furrow-crusts. 

XVI 

Uprose  the  blade  in  green,  the  leaf  in  red, 

The  tree  of  water  and  the  tree  of  wood : 

And  soon  among  the  brandies  overhead 

Gave  beauty  juicy  issue  sweet  for  food. 

0  Laughter!  beauty  plumped  and  love  had  birth. 

Laughter!  0  thou  reviver  of  sick  Earth! 

Good  for  the  spirit,  good 
For  body,  thou !  to  both  art  wine  and  bread  I 


EAETH  AND  A  WEDDED  WOMAN 


The  shepherd,  with  his  eye  on  hazy  South, 

Has  told  of  rain  upon  the  fall  of  day. 

But  promise  is  there  none  for  Susan's  drouth, 

That  he  will  come,  who  keeps  in  dry  delay. 

The  freshest  of  the  village  three  years  gone, 

She  hangs  as  the  white  field-rose  hangs  short-lived; 

And  she  and  Earth  are  one 

In  withering  unrevived. 
Kain!     0  the  glad  refresher  of  the  grain! 
And  welcome  waterspouts,  had  we  sweet  rain! 

n 

Ah,  what  is  Marriage,  says  each  pouting  maid, 

When  she  who  wedded  with  the  soldier  hides 

At  home  as  good  as  widowed  in  tlie  shade, 

A  lighthouse  to  the  girls  that  would  be  brides: 

Nor  dares  to  give  a  lad  an  ogle,  nor 

To  dream  of  dancing,  but  must  hang  and  moan 

Her  husband  in  the  war, 

And  she  to  lie  alone. 
Rain!     0  the  glad  refresher  of  the  grain! 
And  welcome  waterspouts,  had  we  sweet  rain  I 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  341 


III 

They  have  not  known ;  they  are  not  in  the  stream ; 
Light  as  the  flying  seed-ball  is  their  play, 
The  silly  maids!  and  happy  souls  they  seem; 
Yet  Grief  would  not  change  fates  with  such  as  they. 
They  have  not  struck  the  roots  which  meet  the  fires 
Beneath,  and  bind  us  fast  with  Earth,  to  know 

The  strength  of  her  desires, 

The  sternness  of  her  woe. 
Rain!     0  the  glad  refresher  of  the  grain! 
And  welcome  waterspouts,  had  we  sweet  rain  I 

IV 

Now,  shepherd,  see  thy  word,  where  without  shower 
A  borderless  low  blotting  Westward  spreads. 
The  hall-clock  holds  the  valley  on  the  hour; 
Across  an  inner  chamber  thunder  treads : 
The  dead  leaf  trips,  the  tree-top  swings,  the  floor 
Of  dust  whirls,  dropping  lumped :  near  thunder  speaks, 
And  drives  the  dames  to  door, 
Their  kerchiefs  flapped  at  cheeks. 
Rain!    0  the  glad  refresher  of  the  grain! 
And  welcome  waterspouts  of  blessed  rainl 


Through  night,  with  bedroom  window  wide  for  air, 
Lay  Susan  tranced  to  hear  all  heaven  descend: 
And  gurgling  voices  came  of  Eartli,  and  rare. 
Past  flowerful,  breathings,  deeper  than  life's  end, 


342  A  READING   OF  EARTH 

From  her  heaved  breast  of  sacred  common  mould  j 
Whereby  this  lone-laid  wife  was  moved  to  feel 

Unworded  things  and  old 

To  her  pained  heart  appeal. 
Rain!    0  the  glad  refresher  of  the  graini 
And  down  in  deluges  of  blessed  rain! 

VI 

At  morn  she  stood  to  live  for  ear  and  sight, 
Love  sky  or  cloud,  or  rose  or  grasses  drenched. 
A  lureful  devil,  that  in  glow-worm  light 
Set  languor  writhing  all  its  folds,  she  quenched. 
But  she  would  muse  when  neighbours  praised  her  face, 
Her  services,  and  staunchness  to  her  mate: 
Knowing  by  some  dim  trace, 
The  change  might  bear  a  date. 
Rain!    0  the  glad  refresher  of  the  grain! 
Thrice  beauteous  is  our  sunshine  after  rain! 


MOTHER  TO  BABE 


Fleck  of  sky  you  are, 
Dropped  through  branches  dark, 

0  my  little  one,  mine! 
Promise  of  the  star, 
Outpour  of  the  lark; 

Beam  and  song  divine. 

II 

See  this  precious  gift, 
Steeping  in  new  birth 

All  my  being,  for  sign 
Earth  to  heaven  can  lift, 
Heaven  descend  on  earth, 

Both  in  one  be  mine! 

Ill 

Life  in  light  you  glass 

When  you  peep  and  coo. 
You,  my  little  one,  mine! 

Brooklet  chirps  to  grass, 

Paisy  looks  in  dew- 
Up  to  dear  sunshine. 


WOODLAND   PEACE 

Sweet  as  Eden  is  the  air, 

And  Eden-sweet  the  ray. 
Nc  Paradise  is  lost  for  them 
"Who  foot  by  branching  root  and  stem, 
And  lightly  with  the  woodland  share 

The  change  of  night  and  day. 

Here  all  say, 
We  serve  her,  even  as  I : 
We  brood,  we  strive  to  sky. 
We  gaze  upon  decay, 
We  wot  of  life  through  death. 
How  each  feeds  each  we  spy; 
And  is  a  tangle  round, 
Are  patient;  what  is  dumb. 
We  question  not,  nor  ask 
The  silent  to  give  sound. 
The  hidden  to  unmask. 
The  distant  to  draw  near. 

And  this  the  woodland  saith: 
I  know  not  hope  or  fear; 
I  take  whate'er  may  come; 
I  raise  my  head  to  aspects  fair. 
From  foul  I  turn  away. 

Sweet  as  Eden  is  the  air, 
And  Eden -sweet  the  ray. 


THE  QUESTION  WHITHER 


When  we  have  thrown  off  this  old  suit, 

So  much  in  need  of  mending, 
To  sink  among  the  naked  mute, 

Is  that,  think  you,  our  ending? 
We  follow  many,  more  we  lead. 

And  you  who  sadly  turf  us, 
Believe  not  that  all  living  seed 

Must  flower  above  the  surface. 


II 


Sensation  is  a  gracious  gift, 

But  were  it  cramped  to  station, 
The  prayer  to  have  it  cast  adrift, 

Would  spout  from  all  sensation. 
Enough  if  we  have  winked  to  sun. 

Have  sped  the  plough  a  season; 
There  is  a  soul  for  labour  done, 

Endureth  fixed  as  reason. 


346  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

III 

Then  let  our  trust  be  firm  in  Good, 

Though  we  be  of  the  fasting; 
Our  questions  are  a  mortal  brood, 

Our  work  is  everlasting. 
We  children  of  Beneficence 

Are  in  its  being  sharers; 
And  Whither  vainer  sounds  than  Whence, 

For  word  with  such  wayfarers. 


OUTER  AND  INNER 


From  twig  to  twig  the  spider  weaves 

At  noon  his  webbing  fine. 
So  near  to  mute  the  zephyrs  flute 

That  only  leaflets  dance. 
The  sun  draws  out  of  hazel  leaves 

A  smell  of  woodland  wine. 
I  wake  a  swarm  to  sudden  storm 

At  any  step's  advance. 


Along  my  path  is  bugloss  blue, 

The  star  with  fruit  in  moss; 
The  foxgloves  drop  from  throat  to  top 

A  daily  lesser  bell. 
The  blackest  shadow,  nurse  of  dew, 

Has  orange  skeins  across; 
And  keenly  red  is  one  thin  thread 

That  flashing  seems  to  swell. 

Ill 

My  world  I  note  ere  fancy  comes, 

Minutest  hushed  observe : 
What  busy  bits  of  motioned  wits 

Through  antlered  mosswork  strive. 


348  A   EEADING   OF   EARTH 

But  now  so  low  the  stillness  hums, 
My  springs  of  seeing  swerve, 

For  half  a  wink  to  thrill  and  think 
The  woods  with  nymphs  alive. 

IV 

I  neighbour  the  invisible 

So  close  that  my  consent 
Is  only  asked  for  spirits  masked 

To  leap  from  trees  and  flowers. 
And  this  because  with  them  I  dwell 

In  thought,  while  calmly  bent 
To  read  the  lines  dear  Earth  designs 

Shall  speak  her  life  on  ours. 


Accept,  she  says ;  it  is  not  hard 

In  woods;  but  she  in  towns 
Repeats,  accept;  and  have  we  wept, 

And  have  we  quailed  with  fears, 
Or  shrunk  with  horrors,  sure  reward 

We  have  whom  knowledge  crowns; 
Who  see  in  mould  the  rose  unfold, 

The  soul  through  blood  and  tears. 


NATURE  AND  LIFE 


Leave  the  uproar :  at  a  leap 
Thou  shalt  strike  a  woodland  path, 
Enter  silence,  not  of  sleep, 
Under  shadows,  not  of  wrath; 
Breath  which  is  the  spirit's  bath, 
In  the  old  Beginnings  find, 
And  endow  them  with  a  mind, 
Seed  for  seedling,  swathe  for  swathe. 
That  gives  Nature  to  us,  this 
Give  we  her,  and  so  we  kiss. 


II 


Fruitful  is  it  so :  but  hear 
How  within  the  shell  thou  art, 
Music  sounds ;  nor  other  near 
Can  to  such  a  tremor  start. 
Of  the  waves  our  life  is  part; 
They  our  running  harvests  bear: 
Back  to  them  for  manful  air, 
Laden  with  the  woodland's  heart! 
That  gives  Battle  to  us,  this 
Give  we  it,  and  good  the  kiss. 


DIEGE  IN  WOODS 

A  WIND  sways  the  pines, 

And  below 
Not  a  breath  of  wild  air; 
Still  as  the  mosses  that  glow 
On  the  flooring  and  over  the  lines 
Of  the  roots  here  and  there. 
The  pine-tree  drops  its  dead; 
They  are  quiet,  as  under  the  sea. 
Overhead,  overhead 
Rushes  life  in  a  race, 
As  the  clouds  the  clouds  chase; 

And  we  go. 
And  we  drop  like  the  fruits  of  the  tree, 

Even  we, 

Even  so. 


A  FAITH  ON  TRIAL 

On  the  morning  of  May, 

Ere  the  children  had  entered  my  gate 

With  their  wreaths  and  mechanical  lay, 

A  metal  ding-dong  of  the  date ! 

I  mounted  our  hill,  bearing  heart 

That  had  little  of  life  save  its  weight: 

The  crowned  Shadow  poising  dart 

Hung  over  her :  she,  my  own, 

My  good  companion,  mate. 

Pulse  of  me :  she  who  had  shown 

Fortitude  quiet  as  Earth's 

At  the  shedding  of  leaves.     And  around 

The  sky  was  in  garlands  of  cloud. 

Winning  scents  from  unnumbered  new  births, 

Pointed  buds,  where  the  woods  were  browned 

By  a  mouldered  beechen  shroud ; 

Or  over  our  meads  of  the  vale, 

Such  an  answer  to  sun  as  he. 

Brave  in  his  gold;  to  a  sound, 

None  sweeter,  of  woods  flapping  sail. 

With  the  first  full  flood  of  our  year. 

For  their  voyage  on  lustreful  sea: 

Unto  what  curtained  haven  in  chief, 

Will  be  writ  in  the  book  of  the  sere. 

But  surely  the  crew  are  we, 


352  A  EEADIKG  OF  EARTH 

Eager  or  stamped  or  bowed; 

Counted  thinner  at  fall  of  the  leaf. 

Grief  heard  them,  and  passed  like  a  bier. 

Due  Summerward,  lo,  they  were  set, 

In  volumes  of  foliage  proud, 

On  the  heave  of  their  favouring  tides, 

And  their  song  broadened  out  to  the  cheer 

When  a  neck  of  the  ramping  surf 

Rattles  thunder  a  boat  overrides. 

All  smiles  ran  the  highways  wet; 

The  worm  drew  its  links  from  the  turf; 

The  bird  of  felicity  loud. 

Spun  high,  and  a  South  wind  blew. 

Weak  out  of  sheath  downy  leaves 

Of  the  beech  quivered  lucid  as  dew, 

Their  radiance  asking,  who  grieves; 

For  nought  of  a  sorrow  they  knew : 

No  space  to  the  dread  wrestle  vowed, 

No  chamber  in  shadow  of  night. 

At  times  as  the  steadier  breeze 

Flutter-huddled  their  twigs  to  a  crowd, 

The  beam  of  them  wafted  my  sight 

To  league-long  sun  upon  seas: 

The  golden  path  we  had  crossed 

Many  years,  till  her  birthland  swung 

Recovered  to  vision  from  lost, 

A  light  in  her  filial  glance. 

And  sweet  was  her  voice  with  the  tongue, 

The  speechful  tongue  of  her  France, 

Soon  at  ripple  about  us,  like  rills 

Ever  busy  with  little :  away 


A  READING   OP   EARTH  353 

Through  her  Normandy,  down  where  the  mills 

Dot  at  lengths  a  rivercourse,  grey 

As  its  bordering  poplars  bent 

To  gusts  off  the  plains  above. 

Old  stone  chateau  and  farms, 

Home  of  her  birth  and  her  love! 

On  the  thread  of  the  pasture  you  trace, 

By  the  river,  their  milk,  for  miles, 

Spotted  once  with  the  English  tent, 

In  days  of  the  tocsin's  alarms, 

To  tower  of  the  tallest  of  piles, 

The  country's  surveyor  breast-high. 

Home  of  her  birth  and  her  love! 

Home  of  a  diligent  race; 

Thrifty,  deft-handed  to  ply 

Shuttle  or  needle,  and  woo 

Sun  to  the  roots  of  the  pear 

Frogging  each  mud-walled  cot. 

The  elders  had  known  her  in  arms. 

There  plucked  we  the  bluet,  her  hue 

Of  the  deeper  forget-me-not ; 

Well  wedding  her  ripe-wheat  hair. 

I  saw,  unsighting :  her  heart 
I  saw,  and  the  home  of  her  love 
There  printed,  mournfully  rent: 
Her  ebbing  adieu,  her  adieu. 
And  the  stride  of  the  Shadow  athwart. 
For  one  of  our  Autumns  there!  .  .  . 
Straight  as  the  flight  of  a  dove 
We  went,  swift  winjing  Ave  went. 


3;"4  A  BEADING  OF  EARTH 

We  trod  solid  ground,  we  breathed  air, 

The  heavens  were  unbroken.     Break  they, 

The  word  of  the  world  is  adieu : 

Her  word  i  and  the  torrents  are  round, 

The  jawed  wolf-waters  of  prey. 

We  stand  upon  isles,  who  stand: 

A  Shadow  before  us,  and  back, 

A  phantom  the  habited  land. 

We  may  cry  to  the  Sunderer,  spare 

That  dearest!  he  loosens  his  pack. 

Arrows  we  breathe,  not  air. 

The  memories  tenderly  bound 

To  us  are  a  drifting  crew, 

Amid  grey-gapped  waters  for  ground. 

Alone  do  we  stand,  each  one, 

Till  rootless  as  they  we  strew 

Those  deeps  of  the  corse-like  stare 

At  a  foreign  and  stony  sun. 

Eyes  had  I  but  for  the  scene 

Of  my  circle,  what  neighbourly  grew. 

If  haply  no  finger  lay  out 

To  the  figures  of  days  that  had  beeUj, 

I  gathered  my  herb,  and  endured; 

My  old  cloak  wrapped  me  about. 

Unfooted  was  ground-ivy  blue, 

Whose  rustic  shrewd  odour  allured 

In  Spring's  fresh  of  morning:  unseen 

Her  favourite  wood-sorrel  bell 

As  yet,  though  the  leaves'  green  floor 

Awaited  their  flower,  that  would  tell 


A  BEADING   OF   EARTH  355 

^       uf  a  red-veined  moist  yestreen, 

With  its  droop  and  the  hues  it  wore, 

When  we  two  stood  overnight 

One,  in  the  dark  van-glow 

On  our  hill-top,  seeing  beneath, 

Our  household's  twinkle  of  light 

Through  spruce-boughs,  gem  of  a  wreath. 

Budding,  the  service-tree,  white 

Almost  as  whitebeam,  threw, 

From  the  under  of  leaf  upright, 

Flecks  like  a  showering  snow 

On  the  flame-shaped  junipers  green, 

On  the  sombre  mounds  of  the  yew. 

Like  silvery  tapers  bright 

By  a  solemn  cathedral  screen, 

They  glistened  to  closer  view. 

Turf  for  a  rooks'  revel  striped. 

Pleased  those  devourers  astute. 

Chorister  blackbird  and  thrush 

Together  or  alternate  piped ; 

A  free-hearted  harmony  large. 

With  meaning  for  man,  for  brute, 

When  the  primitive  forces  are  brimmed 

Like  featherings  hither  and  yon 

Of  aery  tree-twigs  over  marge. 

To  the  comb  of  the  winds,  untrimmed, 

Their  measure  is  found  in  the  vast. 

Grief  heard  them,  and  stepped  her  way  on. 

She  has  but  a  narrow  embrace. 

Distrustful  of  hearing  she  passed. 


356  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

They  piped  her  young  Earth's  Bacchic  routj 
The  race,  and  the  prize  of  the  race ; 
Earth's  lustihead  pressing  to  sprout. 

But  sight  holds  a  soberer  space. 
Colourless  dogwood  low, 
Curled  up  a  twisted  root. 
Nigh  yellow-green  mosses,  to  flush 
Redder  than  sun  upon  rocks, 
When  the  creeper  clematis-shoot 
Shall  climb,  cap  his  branches,  and  show, 
Beside  veteran  green  of  the  box, 
At  close  of  the  year's  maple  blush, 
A  bleeding  greybeard  is  he. 
Now  hale  in  the  leafage  lush. 
Our  parasites  paint  us.     Hard  by, 
A  wet  yew -trunk  flashed  the  peel 
Of  our  naked  forefathers  in  fight; 
With  stains  of  the  fray  sweating  free; 
And  him  came  no  parasite  nigh : 
Firm  on  the  hard  knotted  knee, 
He  stood  in  the  crown  of  his  dun ; 
Earth's  toughest  to  stay  her  wheel: 
Under  whom  the  full  day  is  night; 
J         Whom  the  century-tempests  call  son, 
Having  striven  to  rend  him  in  vain. 

I  walked  to  observe,  not  to  feel, 
Not  to  fancy,  if  simple  of  eye 
One  may  be  among  images  reaped 
For  a  shift  of  the  glance,  as  grain: 


A   READING   OF   EARTH  357 

Profitless  froth  you  espy 

Ashore  after  billows  have  leaped. 

I  fled  nothing,  nothing  pursued: 

The  changeful  visible  face 

Of  our  Mother  I  sought  for  my  food; 

Crumbs  by  the  way  to  sustain. 

Her  sentence  I  knew  past  grace. 

Myself  I  had  lost  of  us  twain, 

Once  bound  in  mirroring  thought. 

She  had  flung  me  to  dust  in  her  wake; 

And  I,  as  your  convict  drags 

His  chain,  by  the  scourge  untaught. 

Bore  life  for  a  goad,  without  aim. 

I  champed  the  sensations  that  make 

Of  a  ruffled  philosophy  rags. 

For  them  was  no  meaning  too  blunt, 

Nor  aspect  too  cutting  of  steel. 

This  Earth  of  the  beautiful  breasts, 

Shining  up  in  all  colours  aflame. 

To  them  had  visage  of  hags: 

A  Mother  of  aches  and  jests : 

Soulless,  heading  a  hunt 

Aimless  except  for  the  meal. 

Hope,  with  the  star  on  her  front; 

Fear,  with  an  eye  in  the  heel; 

Our  links  to  a  Mother  of  grace; 

They  were  dead  on  the  nerve,  and  dead 

For  the  nature  divided  in  three ; 

Gone  out  of  heart,  out  of  brain. 

Out  of  soul :  I  had  in  their  place 

The  calm  of  an  empty  room. 


358  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

We  were  joined  but  by  that  thin  thread, 
My  disciplined  habit  to  see. 
And  those  conjure  images,  those, 
The  puppets  of  loss  or  gain; 
Not  he  who  is  bare  to  his  doom; 
For  whom  never  semblance  plays 
To  bewitch,  overcloud,  illume. 
The  dusty  mote-images  rose ; 
Sheer  film  of  the  surface  awag: 
They  sank  as  they  rose ;  their  pain 
Declaring  them  mine  of  old  days. 

Now  gazed  I  where,  sole  upon  gloom, 

As  flower-bush  in  sun-specked  crag, 

Up  the  spine  of  the  double  combe 

With  yew-boughs  heavily  cloaked, 

A  young  apparition  shone : 

Known,  yet  wonderful,  white 

Surpassingly ;  doubtfully  known, 

For  it  struck  as  the  birth  of  Light: 

Even  Day  from  the  dark  unyoked. 

It  waved  like  a  pilgrim  flag 

O'er  processional  penitents  flown 

When  of  old  they  broke  rounding  yon  spine: 

0  the  pure  wild-cherry  in  bloom ! 

For  their  Eastward  march  to  the  shrine 

Of  the  footsore  far-eyed  Faith, 

Was  banner  so  brave,  so  fair, 

So  quick  with  celestial  sign 

Of  victorious  rays  over  death? 

For  a  conquest  of  coward  despair;  — 


J 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  359 

Division  of  soul  from  wits, 

And  these  made  rulers ;  —  full  sure, 

More  starlike  never  did  shine 

To  illumine  the  sinister  lield 

Where  our  life's  old  night-bird  flits. 

I  knew  it :  with  her,  my  own, 

Had  hailed  it  pure  of  the  pure ; 

Our  beacon  yearly :  but  strange 

When  it  strikes  to  within  is  the  known; 

Richer  than  newness  revealed. 

There  was  needed  darkness  like  mine. 

Its  beauty  to  vividness  blown, 

Drew  the  life  in  me  forward,  chased. 

From  aloft  on  a  pinnacle's  range. 

That  hindward  spidery  line, 

The  length  of  the  ways  I  had  paced, 

A  footfarer  out  of  the  dawn, 

To  Youth's  wild  forest,  where  sprang. 

For  the  morning  of  May  long  gone. 

The  forest's  white  virgin;  she 

Seen  yonder;  and  sheltered  me,  sang; 

She  in  me,  I  in  her;  what  songs 

The  fawn-eared  wood-hollows  revive 

To  pour  forth  their  tune-footed  throngs; 

Inspire  to  the  dreaming  of  good 

Illimitable  to  come: 

She,  the  white  wild  cherry,  a  tree, 

Earth-rooted,  tangibly  wood, 

Yet  a  presence  throbbing  alive; 

Nor  she  in  our  language  dumb: 

A  spirit  born  of  a  tree; 


360  A  EEADINQ  OF  EABTH 

Because  earth-rooted  alive : 

Huntress  of  things  worth  pursuit 

Of  souls;  in  our  naming,  dreams. 

And  each  unto  other  was  lute, 

By  fits  quick  as  breezy  gleams. 

My  quiver  of  aims  and  desires 

Had  colour  that  she  would  have  owned; 

And  if  by  humaner  fires 

Hued  later,  these  held  her  enthroned: 

My  crescent  of  Earth;  my  blood 

At  the  silvery  early  stir; 

Hour  of  the  thrill  of  the  bud 

About  to  burst,  and  by  her 

Directed,  attuned,  englobed: 

My  Goddess,  the  chaste,  not  chill; 

Choir  over  choir  white-robed ; 

White-bosomed  fold  within  fold: 

For  so  could  I  dream,  breast-bare, 

In  my  time  of  blooming;  dream  still 

Through  the  maze,  the  mesh,  and  the  wreck. 

Despite,  since  manhood  was  bold, 

The  yoke  of  the  flesh  on  my  neck. 

She  beckoned,  I  gazed,  unaware 

How  a  shaft  of  the  blossoming  tree 

Was  shot  from  the  yew-wood's  core. 

I  stood  to  tlie  touch  of  a  key 

Turned  in  a  fast-shut  door. 

They  rounded  my  garden,  content, 
The  small  fry,  clutching  their  fee, 
Their  fruit  of  the  wreath  and  the  pole; 
And,  chatter,  hoj),  skip,  they  were  sent, 


A   BEADING   OF   EARTH  361 

In  a  buzz  of  young  company  glee, 
Their  natural  music,  swift  shoal 
To  the  next  easy  shedders  of  pence. 
Why  not?  for  they  had  me  in  tune 
With  the  hungers  of  my  kind. 

Do  readings  of  earth  draw  thence, 

Then  a  concord  deeper  than  cries 

Of  the  Whither  whose  echo  is  Whence, 

To  jar  unanswered,  shall  rise 

As  a  fountain-jet  in  the  mind 

Bowed  dark  o'er  the  falling  and  strewn. 

•  ••••• 

Unwitting  where  it  might  lead, 
How  it  came,  for  the  anguish  to  cease, 
And  the  Questions  that  sow  not  nor  spin, 
This  wisdom,  rough-written,  and  black. 
As  of  veins  that  from  venom  bleed, 
I  had  with  the  peace  within; 
Or  patience,  mortal  of  peace, 
Compressing  the  surgent  strife 
In  a  heart  laid  open,  not  mailed, 
To  the  last  blank  hour  of  the  rack, 
When  struck  the  dividing  knife: 
When  the  hand  that  never  had  failed 
In  its  pressure  to  mine  hung  slack. 

But  this  in  myself  did  I  know, 
Not  needing  a  studious  brow, 
Or  trust  in  a  governing  star, 
While  my  ears  held  the  jangled  shout 


362  A   READING   OF   EARTH 

The  children  were  lifting  afar: 
•I  J        That  natures  at  interflow 

With  all  of  their  past  and  the  now, 
Are  chords  to  the  Nature  without, 
Orbs  to  the  greater  whole : 
First  then,  nor  utterly  then 
Till  our  lord  of  sensations  at  war, 
The  rebel,  the  heart,  yields  place 
To  brain,  each  prompting  the  soul. 
Thus  our  dear  Earth  we  embrace 
For  the  milk,  her  strength  to  men. 

And  crave  we  her  medical  herb. 

We  have  but  to  see  and  hear, 

Though  pierced  by  the  cruel  acerb, 

The  troops  of  tlie  memories  armed 

Hostile  to  strike  at  the  nest 

That  nourished  and  flew  them  warmed. 

Not  she  gives  the  tear  for  the  tear. 

Weep,  bleed,  rave,  writhe,  be  distraught, 

She  is  moveless.     Not  of  her  breast 

Are  the  symbols  we  conjure  when  Fear 

Takes  leaven  of  Hope.     I  caught, 

With  Death  in  me  shrinking  from  Death, 

As  cold  from  cold,  for  a  sign 

Of  the  life  beyond  ashes;  I  cast, 

Believing  the  vision  divine, 

Wings  of  that  dream  of  my  Youth 

To  the  spirit  beloved:  't  was  unglassed 

On  her  breast,  in  her  depths  austere: 

A  flash  through  the  mist,  mere  breath, 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  363 

Breath  on  a  buckler  ot  steel. 
For  the  flesh  in  revolt  at  her  laws, 
Neither  song  nor  smile  in  ruth, 
Nor  promise  of  things  to  reveal, 
Has  she,  nor  a  word  she  saith : 
We  are  asking  her  wheels  to  pause. 
Well  knows  she  the  cry  of  unfaith. 
If  we  strain  to  the  farther  shore, 
We  are  catching  at  comfort  near. 
■J      Assurances,  symbols,  saws, 
Kevelations  in  Legends,  light 
To  eyes  rolling  darkness,  these 
Desired  of  the  flesh  in  affright. 
For  the  which  it  will  swear  to  adore. 
She  yields  not  for  prayers  at  her  knees; 
The  woolly  beast  bleating  will  shear. 
These  are  our  sensual  dreams ; 
Of  the  yearning  to  touch,  to  feel 
The  dark  Impalpable  sure. 
And  have  the  Unveiled  appear; 
Whereon  ever  black  she  beams, 
Doth  of  her  terrible  deal, 
\/        She  who  dotes  over  ripeness  at  play, 
Rosiness  fondles  and  feels, 
Guides  it  with  shepherding  crook, 
To  her  sports  and  her  pastures  alway. 
Not  she  gives  the  tear  for  the  tear : 
Harsh  wisdom  gives  Earth,  no  more; 
In  one  the  spur  and  the  curb: 
An  answer  to  tliou;^^hts  or  deeds; 
To  the  Legends  an  alien  look; 


364  A   READING   OF   EARTH 

To  the  Questions  a  figure  of  clay. 
Yet  we  have  but  to  see  and  hear, 
Crave  we  her  medical  herb. 
For  the  road  to  her  soul  is  the  Real: 
The  root  of  the  growth  of  man : 
And  the  senses  must  traverse  it  fresh 
With  a  love  that  no  scourge  shall  abate, 
To  reach  the  lone  heights  where  we  scan 
In  the  mind's  rarer  vision  this  flesh; 
In  the  charge  of  the  Mother  our  fate; 
Her  law  as  the  one  common  weal. 

We,  whom  the  view  benumbs, 
We,  quivering  upward,  each  hour 
Know  battle  in  air  and  in  ground 
For  the  breath  that  goes  as  it  comes, 
For  the  choice  between  sweet  and  sour, 
For  the  smallest  grain  of  our  worth: 
And  he  who  the  reckoning  sums. 
Finds  nought  in  his  hand  save  Earth. 
Of  Earth  are  we  stripped  or  crowned. 
The  fleeting  Present  we  crave, 
Barter  our  best  to  wed. 
In  hope  of  a  cushioned  bower, 
What  is  it  but  Future  and  Past 
Like  wind  and  tide  at  a  wave  I 
Idea  of  the  senses,  bred 
For  the  senses  to  snap  and  devour: 
Thin  as  the  shell  of  a  sound 
In  delivery,  withered  in  light. 
Cry  we  for  permanence  fast, 


A   READING   OF  EARTH  365 

Permanence  hangs  by  the  grave; 
Sits  on  the  grave  green-grassed, 
On  the  roll  of  the  heaved  grave-mound. 
By  Death,  as  by  Life,  are  we  fed:  : 

The  two  are  one  spring;  our  bond  .? 

./        "With  the  numbers ;  with  whom  to  unite 
Here  feathers  wings  for  beyond: 
Only  they  can  waft  us  in  flight. 
For  they  are  Reality's  flower. 
Of  them,  and  the  contact  with  them, 
Issues  Earth's  dearest  daughter,  the  firm 
In  footing,  the  stately  of  stem ; 
Unshaken  though  elements  lourj 
A  warrior  heart  unquelled; 
Mirror  of  Earth,  and  guide 
To  the  Holies  from  sense  withheld: 
Reason,  man's  germinant  fruit. 
She  wrestles  with  our  old  worm 
Self  in  the  narrow  and  wide : 
Relentless  quencher  of  lies. 
With  laughter  she  pierces  the  brutej 
And  hear  we  her  laughter  peal, 
'T  is  Light  in  us  dancing  to  scour 
The  loathed  recess  of  his  dens; 
Scatter  his  monstrous  bed, 
And  hound  him  to  harrow  and  plough. 
She  is  the  world's  one  prize; 
Our  champion,  rightfully  head; 
The  vessel  whose  piloted  prow. 
Though  Folly  froth  round,  hiss  and  hoot, 
Leaves  legible  print  at  the  keel. 


366  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

Nor  least  is  the  service  she  does, 
That  service  to  her  may  cleanse 
The  well  of  the  Sorrows  in  us; 
For  a  common  delight  will  drain 
The  rank  individual  fens 
Of  a  wound  refusing  to  heal 
While  the  old  worm  slavers  its  root. 

I  bowed  as  a  leaf  in  rain ; 

As  a  tree  when  the  leaf  is  shed 

To  winds  in  the  season  at  wane: 

And  when  from  my  soul  I  said, 

May  the  worm  be  trampled :  smite, 

Sacred  Reality!  power 

Filled  me  to  front  it  aright. 

I  had  come  of  my  faith's  ordeal. 

It  is  not  to  stand  on  a  tower 

And  see  the  flat  universe  reel; 

Our  mortal  sublimities  drop 

Like  raiment  by  glisterlings  worn, 

At  a  sweep  of  the  scythe  for  the  crop. 

Wisdom  is  won  of  its  fight, 

The  combat  incessant;  and  dries 

To  mummywrap  perching  a  height. 

It  chews  the  contemplative  cud 

In  peril  of  isolate  scorn, 

Unfed  of  the  onward  flood. 

Nor  view  we  a  different  morn 

If  we  gaze  with  the  deeper  sight. 

With  the  deeper  tliouglit  forewise: 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  367 

The  world  is  the  same,  seen  through; 

The  features  of  men  are  the  same. 

But  let  their  historian  new, 

In  the  language  of  nakedness  write, 

Kejoice  we  to  know  not  shame, 

Not  a  dread,  not  a  doubt:  to  have  done 

With  the  tortures  of  thought  in  the  throes, 

Our  animal  tangle,  and  grass 

Very  sap  of  the  vital  in  this : 

That  from  flesh  unto  spirit  man  grows 

Even  here  on  the  sod  under  sun : 

That  she  of  the  wanton's  kiss 

Broken  through  with  the  bite  of  an  asp, 

Is  Mother  of  simple  truth, 

Relentless  quencher  of  lies; 

Eternal  in  thought;  discerned 

In  thought  mid-ferry  between 

The  Life  and  the  Death,  which  are  one, 

As  our  breath  in  and  out,  joy  or  teen. 

She  gives  the  rich  vision  to  youth, 

If  we  will,  of  her  prompting  wise; 

Or  men  by  the  lash  made  lean. 

Who  in  harness  the  mind  subserve. 

Their  title  to  read  her  have  earned; 

Having  mastered  sensation  —  insane 

At  a  stroke  of  the  terrified  nerve; 

And  out  of  the  sensual  hive, 

Grown  to  the  flower  of  brain; 

To  know  her  a  thing  alive. 

Whose  aspects  mutably  swerve, 

Whose  laws  immutably  reign. 


368  A  BEADING   OP   EARTH 

Our  sentencer,  clother  in  mist, 

Her  morn  bends  breast  to  her  noon, 

Noon  to  the  hour  dark-dyed, 

If  we  will,  of  her  promptings  wise: 

Her  light  is  our  own  if  we  list. 

The  Legends  that  sweep  her  aside, 

Crying  loud  for  an  opiate  boon. 

To  comfort  the  human  want, 

From  the  bosom  of  magical  skies, 

She  smiles  on,  marking  their  source: 

They  read  her  with  infant  eyes. 

Good  ships  of  morality  they, 

For  our  crude  developing  force; 

Granite  the  thought  to  stay. 

That  she  is  a  thing  alive 

To  the  living,  the  falling  and  strewn. 

But  the  Questions,  the  broods  that  haunt 

Sensation  insurgent,  may  drive. 

The  way  of  the  channelling  mole, 

Head  in  a  ground-vault  gaunt 

As  your  telescope's  skeleton  moon. 

Barren  comfort  to  these  will  she  dole 5 

Dead  is  her  face  to  their  cries. 

Intelligence  pushing  to  taste, 

A  lesson  from  beasts  might  heed. 

They  scatter  a  voice  in  the  waste, 

Where  any  dry  swish  of  a  reed 

By  grey-glassy  water  replies. 


*  They  see  not  above  or  below; 

*  Farthest  are  they  from  my  soul, ' 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  369 

Earth  whispers:  '  they  scarce  have  the  thirsty 

*  Except  to  unriddle  a  rune ; 

*  And  I  spin  none ;  only  show, 

*  Would  humanity  soar  from  its  worst, 

*  Winged  above  darkness  and  dole, 
'  How  flesh  unto  spirit  must  grow. 

*  Spirit  raves  not  for  a  goal. 

y      '  Shapes  in  man's  likeness  hewn, 

*  Desires  not;  neither  desires 

'  The  Sleep  or  the  Glory :  it  trusts ; 

*  Uses  my  gifts,  yet  aspires; 
'  Dreams  of  a  higher  than  it. 

'  The  dream  is  an  atmosphere ; 
'  A  scale  still  ascending  to  knit 

*  The  clear  to  the  loftier  Clear. 

*  'T  is  Eeason  herself,  tiptoe 

*  At  the  ultimate  bound  of  her  wit, 
'  On  the  verges  of  Xight  and  Day. 

*  But  is  it  a  dream  of  the  lusts, 

*  To  my  dustiest  'tis  decreed; 

*  And  them  that  so  shuffle  astray, 
'  I  touch  with  no  key  of  gold 

*  For  the  wealth  of  the  secret  nook; 

*  Though  I  dote  over  ripeness  at  play, 

*  Rosiness  fondle  and  feed, 

*  Guide  it  with  shepherding  crook 

'  To  my  sports  and  my  pastures  alway. 

*  The  key  will  shriek  in  the  lock, 

*  The  door  will  rustily  hinge, 

*  Will  open  on  features  of  mould, 

*  To  vanish  corrupt  at  a  glimT^e, 


370  A  READING   OP   EARTH 

'  And  mock  as  the  wild  echoes  mock, 

*  Soulless  in  mimic,  doth  Greed 

*  Or  the  passion  for  fruitage  tinge 

*  That  dream,  for  your  parricide  imps 

*  To  wing  through  the  body  of  Time, 
'  Yourselves  in  slaying  him  slay. 

*  Much  are  you  shots  of  your  prime, 

*  You  men  of  the  act  and  the  dream: 

*  And  please  you  to  fatten  a  weed 

*  That  perishes,  pledged  to  decay, 

*  'T  is  dearth  in  your  season  of  need, 

'  Down  the  slopes  of  the  shoreward  way;  — 

*  Nigh  on  the  misty  stream, 

'  Where  Ferryman  under  his  hood, 

*  With  a  call  to  be  ready  to  pay 

*  The  small  coin,  whitens  red  blood. 

*  But  the  young  ethereal  seed 

*  Shall  bring  you  the  bread  no  buyer 

*  Can  have  for  his  craving  supreme; 

*  To  my  quenchless  quick  shall  speed 

*  The  soul  at  her  wrestle  rude 

*  With  devil,  with  angel  more  dire ; 

*  With  the  flesh,  with  the  Fates,  enringed. 

*  The  dream  of  the  blossom  of  Good, 

*  Is  your  banner  of  battle  unrolled 

*  In  its  waver  and  current  and  curve 
'  (Choir  over  choir  white-winged, 

*  White-bosomed  fold  within  fold): 
'  Hopeful  of  victory  most 

*  When  hard  is  the  task  to  sustain 

*  Assaults  of  the  fearful  sense 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  371 

'  At  a  mind  in  desolate  mood 

*  With  the  Whither,  whose  echo  is  Whence; 

*  And  humanity's  clamour,  lost,  lost; 

*  And  its  clasp  of  the  staves  that  snap; 

*  And  evil  abroad,  as  a  main 

*  Uproarious,  bursting  its  dyke. 
'  For  back  do  you  look,  and  lo, 

*  Forward  the  harvest  of  grain !  — 

*  Numbers  in  council,  awake 

*  To  love  more  than  things  of  my  lap, 

*  Love  me ;  and  to  let  the  types  break, 

*  Men  be  grass,  rocks  rivers,  all  flow; 

*  All  save  the  dream  sink  alike 

*  To  the  source  of  my  vital  in  sap: 

'  Their  battle,  their  loss,  their  ache, 
'For  my  pledge  of  vitality  know. 

*  The  dream  is  the  thought  in  the  ghostj 
'  The  thought  sent  flying  for  food; 

*  Eyeless,  but  sprung  of  an  aim 

*  Supernal  of  Reason,  to  find 

*  The  great  Over-Reason  we  name 

*  Beneficence:  mind  seeking  Mind. 

*  Dream  of  the  blossom  of  Good, 

*  In  its  waver  and  current  and  curve, 

'  With  the  hopes  of  my  offspring  enscrolled! 

*  Soon  to  be  seen  of  a  host 

*  The  flag  of  the  Master  I  serve ! 

*  And  life  in  them  doubled  on  Life, 

*  As  flame  upon  flame,  to  behold, 

*  High  over  Time-tumbled  sea, 

*  The  bliss  of  his  headship  of  strife, 
'  Him  through  handmaiden  me.'^. 


CHANGE  IN  EECUERENCE 


I  STOOD  at  the  gate  of  the  cot 

Where  my  darling,  with  side-glance  demure, 

Would  spy,  on  her  trim  garden-plot, 

The  busy  wild  things  chase  and  lure. 

For  these  with  their  ways  were  her  feast 

They  had  surety  no  enemy  lurked. 

Their  deftest  of  tricks  to  their  least, 

She  gathered  in  watch  as  she  worked. 


n 


When  berries  were  red  on  her  ash, 

The  blackbird  would  rifle  them  rough, 

Till  the  ground  underneath  looked  a  gash, 

And  her  rogue  grew  the  round  of  a  chough. 

The  squirrel  cocked  ear  o'er  his  hoop, 

Up  the  spruce,  quick  as  eye,  trailing  brush. 

She  knew  any  tit  of  the  troop 

All  as  well  as  the  snail-tapping  thrush. 


A  READING   OP   EARTH  373 


III 

I  gazed :  't  was  the  scene  of  the  frame, 
With  the  face,  the  dear  life  for  me,  fled. 
No  window  a  lute  to  my  name, 
No  watcher  there  plying  the  thread. 
But  the  blackbird  hung  pecking  at  will; 
The  squirrel  from  cone  hopped  to  cone ; 
The  thrush  had  a  snail  in  his  bill. 
And  tap-tapped  the  shell  hard  on  a  stone. 


HYMN  TO  COLOUR 


With  Life  and  Death  I  walked  when  Love  appeared, 
And  made  them  on  each  side  a  shadow  seem. 
Through  wooded  vales  the  land  of  dawn  we  neared, 
Where  down  smooth  rapids  whirls  the  helmless  dream 
To  fall  on  daylight;  and  night  puts  away 
Her  darker  veil  for  grey. 

II 

In  that  grey  veil  green  grassblades  brushed  we  by; 
We  came  where  woods  breathed  sharp,  and  overhead 
Rocks  raised  clear  horns  on  a  transforming  sky : 
Around,  save  for  those  shapes,  with  him  who  led 
And  linked  them,  desert  varied  by  no  sign 
Of  other  life  than  mine. 

Ill 

By  this  the  dark-winged  planet,  raying  wide, 
From  the  mild  pearl=glow  to  the  rose  upborne, 
Drew  in  his  fires,  less  faint  than  far  descried. 
Pure-fronted  on  a  stronger  wave  of  morn: 
And  those  two  sliajics  th(.  splendour  interweaved, 
Hung  web-like,  sank  and  heaved. 


A  BEADING   OF  EARTH  375 


IV 


Love  took  my  hand  when  hidden  stood  the  sun 
To  fling  his  robe  on  shoulder-heights  of  snow. 
Then  said :  There  lie  they,  Life  and  Death  in  one. 
Whichever  is,  the  other  is :  but  know, 
It  is  thy  craving  self  that  thou  dost  see, 
Not  in  them  seeing  me. 


Shall  man  into  the  mystery  of  breath, 
From  his  quick  beating  pulse  a  pathway  spy? 
Or  learn  the  secret  of  the  shrouded  death, 
By  lifting  up  the  lid  of  a  white  eye? 
Cleave  thou  thy  way  with  fathering  desire 
Of  fire  to  reach  to  fire. 


VI 


Look  now  where  Colour,  the  soul's  bridegroom,  makes 
The  house  of  heaven  splendid  for  the  bride. 
To  him  as  leaps  a  fountain  she  awakes, 
In  knotting  arms,  yet  boundless:  him  beside, 
3he  holds  the  flower  to  heaven,  and  by  his  power 
Brings  heaven  to  the  flower. 


376  A  EEADING  OF  EARTH 


▼n 

He  gives  her  homeliness  in  desert  air, 
And  sovereignty  in  spaciousness ;  he  leads 
Through  widening  chambers  of  surprise  to  where 
Throbs  rapture  near  an  end  that  aye  recedes, 
Because  his  touch  is  infinite  and  lends 
A  yonder  to  all  ends. 


VIII 


Death  begs  of  Life  his  blush ;  Life  Death  persuades 
To  keep  long  day  with  his  caresses  graced. 
He  is  the  heart  of  light,  the  wing  of  shades, 
The  crown  of  beauty :  never  soul  embraced 
Of  him  can  harbour  un faith;  soul  of  him 
Possessed  walks  never  dim. 


IX 


Love  eyed  his  rosy  memories:  he  sang: 
0  bloom  of  dawn,  breathed  up  from  the  gold  sheaf 
Held  springing  beneath  Orient!  that  dost  hang 
The  space  of  dewdrops  running  over  leaf; 
Thy  fleetingness  is  bigger  in  the  ghost 
Than  Time  with  all  his  hostl 


A  READING   OF   EAKTH  377 


Of  thee  to  say  behold,  has  said  adieu . 
But  love  remembers  how  the  sky  was  green, 
And  how  the  grasses  glimmered  lightest  blue; 
How  saint-like  grey  took  fervour :  how  the  screen 
Of  cloud  grew  violet ;  how  thy  moment  came 
Between  a  blush  and  flame. 


XI 


Love  saw  the  emissary  eglantine 
Break  wave  round  thy  white  feet  above  the  gloom; 
Lay  linger  on  thy  star;  thy  raiment  line 
With  cherub  wing  and  limb;  wed  thy  soft  bloom, 
Gold-quivering  like  sunrays  in  thistle-down, 
Earth  under  rolling  brown. 


zn 


They  do  not  look  through  love  to  look  on  thee, 
Grave  heavenliness!  nor  know  they  joy  of  sight, 
Who  deem  the  wave  of  rapt  desire  must  be 
Its  wrecking  and  last  issue  of  delight. 
Dead  seasons  quicken  in  one  petal-spot 
Of  colour  unforgot. 


378  A  READING  OF  EARTH 


XIII 

This  way  have  men  come  out  of  brutishness 
To  spell  the  letters  of  the  sky  and  read 
A  reflex  upon  earth  else  meaningless. 
With  thee,  O  fount  of  the  Untimed !  to  lead ; 
Drink  they  of  thee,  thee  eyeing,  they  unaged 
Shall  on  through  brave  wars  waged. 


XIV 

More  gardens  will  they  win  than  any  lost; 
The  vile  plucked  out  of  them,  the  unlovely  slain. 
Not  forfeiting  the  beast  with  which  they  are  crossed, 
To  stature  of  the  Gods  will  they  attain. 
They  shall  uplift  their  Earth  to  meet  her  Lord, 
Themselves  the  attuning  chord! 


XV 

The  song  had  ceased;  my  vision  with  the  song. 
Then  of  those  Shadows,  which  one  made  descent 
Beside  me  I  knew  not:  but  Life  ere  long 
Came  on  me  in  the  public  ways  and  bent 
Eyes  deeper  than  of  old :  Death  met  I  too, 
And  saw  the  dawn  glow  through. 


MEDITATION   UNDER   STARS 

What  links  are  ours  with  orbs  that  are 

So  resolutely  far: 
The  solitary  asks,  and  they 
Give  radiance  as  from  a  shield: 

Still  at  the  death  of  day, 

The  seen,  the  unrevealed. 

Implacable  they  shine 
To  us  who  would  of  Life  obtain 
An  answer  for  the  life  we  strain, 

To  nourish  with  one  sign. 
Nor  can  imagination  throw 
The  penetrative  shaft :  we  pass 
The  breath  of  thought,  who  would  divine 

If  haply  they  may  grow 
As  Earth;  have  our  desire  to  know; 
If  life  comes  there  to  grain  from  grass, 
And  flowers  like  ours  of  toil  and  pain; 

Has  passion  to  beat  bar, 

Win  space  from  cleaving  brain; 

The  mystic  link  attain, 

Whereby  star  holds  on  star. 

Those  visible  immortals  beam 

Allurement  to  the  dream: 
Ireful  at  human  hungers  brook 

No  question  in  the  look. 


380  A  READING   OF  EARTH 

For  ever  virgin  to  our  sense, 

Remote  they  wane  to  gaze  intense: 
Prolong  it,  and  in  ruthlessness  they  smite 
The  beating  heart  behind  the  ball  of  sight: 

Till  we  conceive  their  heavens  hoar, 

Those  lights  they  raise  but  sparkles  frore, 
And  Earth,  our  blood-warm  Earth ,  a  shuddering  prey 
To  that  frigidity  of  brainless  ray. 


Yet  space  is  given  for  breath  of  thought 
Beyond  our  bounds  when  musing :  more 
When  to  that  musing  love  is  brought, 
And  love  is  asked  of  love's  wherefore. 
'Tis  Earth's,  her  giftj  else  have  we  nought: 
Her  gift,  her  secret,  here  our  tie. 
And  not  with  her  and  yonder  sky? 
Bethink  you :  were  it  Earth  alone 
Breeds  love,  would  not  her  region  be 

The  sole  delight  and  throne 

Of  generous  Deity? 

To  deeper  than  this  ball  of  sight 
Appeal  the  lustrous  people  of  the  night. 
Fronting  yon  shoreless,  sown  with  fiery  sails, 

It  is  our  ravenous  that  quails, 
Flesh  by  its  craven  thirsts  and  fears  distraught. 
The  spirit  leaps  alight. 
Doubts  not  in  tliem  is  he, 
The  binder  of  his  sheaves,  the  same,  the  right: 
Of  magnitude  to  magnitude  is  wrought. 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  581 

To  feel  it  large  of  the  great  life  they  hold: 
In  them  to  come,  or  vaster  intervolved, 
The  issues  known  in  us,  our  unsolved  solved: 
That  there  with  toil  Life  climbs  the  self-same  Tree, 
Whose  roots  enrichment  have  from  ripeness  dropped. 
So  may  we  read  and  little  find  them  cold: 
Let  it  but  be  the  lord  of  Mind  to  guide 
Our  eyes;  no  branch  of  Reason's  growing  lopped; 
Nor  dreaming  on  a  dream ;  but  fortified 
By  day  to  penetrate  black  midnight;  see, 
Hear,  feel,  outside  the  senses ;  even  that  we, 
The  specks  of  dust  upon  a  mound  of  mould. 
We  who  reflect  those  rays,  though  low  our  place, 
To  them  are  lastingly  allied. 

So  may  we  read,  and  little  find  them  cold: 

Not  frosty  lamps  illumining  dead  space, 

Not  distant  aliens,  not  senseless  Powers. 

The  fire  is  in  them  whereof  we  are  born; 

The  music  of  their  motion  may  be  ours. 

Spirit  shall  deem  them  beckoning  Earth  and  voiced 

Sisterly  to  her,  in  her  beams  rejoiced. 

Of  love,  the  grand  impulsion,  we  behold 

The  love  that  lends  her  grace 

Among  the  starry  fold. 
Then  at  new  flood  of  customary  morn, 

Look  at  her  through  her  showers, 

Her  mists,  her  streaming  gold, 
A  wonder  edges  the  familiar  face : 
She  wears  no  more  that  robe  of  printed  hours; 
Half  strange  seems  Earth,  and  sweeter  than  her  flowers. 


WOODMAN   AND    ECHO 

Close  Echo  hears  the  woodman's  axe. 
To  double  on  it,  as  in  glee, 
With  clap  of  hands,  and  little  lacKS 
Of  meaning  in  her  repartee. 

For  all  shall  fall, 

As  one  has  done, 

The  tree  of  me, 

Of  thee  the  tree ; 

And  unto  all 

The  fate  we  wait 

Reveals  the  wheels 

Whereon  we  run : 

We  tower  to  flower, 

We  spread  the  shade. 

We  drop  for  crop, 

At  length  are  laid; 

Are  rolled  in  mould. 

From  chop  and  lop : 
And  are  we  thick  in  woodland  tracks, 
Or  tempting  of  our  stature  we, 
The  end  is  one,  we  do  but  wax 
For  service  over  land  and  sea. 

So,  strike !  the  like 

Shall  thus  of  us, 
My  brawny  woodman,  claim  the  tax. 


A  BEADING   OF  EARTH  383 

"Nor  foe  thy  blow, 

Though  wood  be  good, 
And  shriekingly  the  timber  cracks: 

The  ground  we  crowned 

Shall  speed  the  seed 
Of  younger  into  swelling  sacks. 

For  use  he  hews, 

To  make  awake 
The  spirit  of  what  stuff  we  be: 

Our  earth  of  mirth 

And  tears  he  clears 
For  braver,  let  our  minds  agreej 

And  then  will  men 

Within  them  win 
And  Echo  clapping  harmony. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  ELD 

We  spend  our  lives  in  learning  pilotage, 

And  grow  good  steersmen  when  the  vessel 's  crank  / 

Gap-toothed  he  spake  and  with  a  tottering  shank 

Sidled  to  gain  the  sunny  bench  of  Age. 

It  is  the  sentence  which  completes  that  stage; 

A  testament  of  wisdom  reading  blank. 

The  seniors  of  the  race,  on  their  last  plank, 

Pass  mumbling  it  as  nature's  final  page. 

These,  bent  by  such  experience,  are  the  band 

Who  captain  young  enthusiasts  to  maintain 

What  things  we  view,  and  Earth's  decree  withstand, 

Lest  dreaded  Change,  long  dammed  by  dull  decay, 

Should  bring  the  world  a  vessel  steered  by  brain, 

And  ancients  musical  at  close  of  day. 


EAKTH'S   PKEFERENCE 

Earth  loves  her  young:  a  preference  manifest: 

She  prompts  them  to  her  fruits  and  flower-beds; 

Their  beauty  with  her  choicest  interthreads, 

And  makes  her  revel  of  their  merry  zest. 

As  in  our  East  much  were  it  in  our  West, 

If  men  had  risen  to  do  the  work  of  heads. 

Her  gabbling  grey  she  eyes  askant,  nor  treads 

The  ways  they  walk;  by  what  they  speak  oppressed. 

How  wrought  they  in  their  zenith?  'T  is  not  writ; 

Not  all ;  yet  she  by  one  sure  sign  can  read : 

Have  they  but  held  her  laws  and  nature  dear, 

They  mouth  no  sentence  of  inverted  wit. 

More  prizes  she  her  beasts  than  this  high  breed 

Wry  in  the  shape  she  wastes  her  milk  to  rear. 


SOCIETY 

Historic  be  the  survey  of  our  kind, 
And  how  their  brave  Society  took  shape. 
Lion,  wolf,  vulture,  fox,  jackal  and  ape, 
The  strong  of  limb,  the  keen  of  nose,  we  find, 
Who,  with  some  jars  in  harmony,  combined, 
Their  primal  instincts  taming,  to  escape 
The  brawl  indecent,  and  hot  passions  drape. 
Convenience  pricked  conscience,  that  the  mind. 
Thus  entered  they  the  field  of  milder  beasts, 
Which  in  some  sort  of  civil  order  graze. 
And  do  half-homage  to  the  God  of  Laws. 
But  are  they  still  for  their  old  ravenous  feasts, 
Earth  gives  the  edifice  they  build  no  base : 
They  spring  another  flood  of  fangs  and  claws. 


WINTEE  HEAVENS 

Sharp  is  the  night,  but  stars  with  frost  alive 

Leap  off  the  rim  of  earth  across  the  dome. 

It  is  a  night  to  make  the  heavens  our  home 

More  than  the  nest  whereto  apace  we  strive. 

Lengths  down  our  road  each  fir-tree  seems  a  hive, 

It  swarms  outrushing  from  the  golden  comb. 

They  waken  waves  of  thoughts  that  burst  to  foam : 

The  living  throb  in  me,  the  dead  revive. 

Yon  mantle  clothes  us :  there,  past  mortal  breath, 

Life  glistens  on  the  river  of  the  death. 

It  folds  us,  flesh  and  dust;  and  have  we  knelt, 

Or  never  knelt,  or  eyed  as  kine  the  springs 

Of  radiance,  the  radiance  enrings : 

And  this  is  the  soul's  haven  to  have  felt. 


WIND  ON  THE  LYEE 

That  was  the  chirp  of  Ariel 
You  heard,  as  overhead  it  flew, 
The  farther  going  more  to  dwell, 
And  wing  our  green  to  wed  our  blue; 
But  whether  note  of  joy  or  knell, 
Not  his  own  Father-singer  knew; 
Nor  yet  can  any  mortal  tell. 
Save  only  how  it  shivers  through; 
The  breast  of  us  a  sounded  shell, 
The  blood  of  us  a  lighted  dew. 


THE  YOUTHFUL  QUEST 

His  Lady  queen  of  woods  to  meet, 
He  wanders  day  and  night: 

The  leaves  have  whisperings  discreet^ 
The  mossy  ways  invite. 

Across  a  lustrous  ring  of  space, 
By  covert  hoods  and  caves, 

Is  promise  of  her  secret  face 
In  film  that  onward  waves. 

For  darkness  is  the  light  astrain, 
Astrain  for  light  the  dark. 

A  grey  moth  down  a  larches'  lane 
Unwinds  a  ghostly  spark. 

Her  lamp  he  sees,  and  young  desire 
Is  fed  while  cloaked  she  flies. 

She  quivers  shot  of  violet  fire 
To  ash  at  look  of  eyes. 


THE  EMPTY  PUESE 

A  Sermon  to  our  Later  Prodigal  Son 

Thou,  run  to  the  dry  on  this  wayside  bank, 
Too  plainly  of  all  the  propellers  bereft  1 

Quenched  youth,  and  is  that  thy  purse  ? 
Even  such  limp  slough  as  the  snake  has  left 
Slack  to  the  gale  upon  spikes  of  whin, 
For  cast-off  coat  of  a  life  gone  blank 
In  its  frame  of  a  grin  at  the  seeker,  is  thinej 

And  thine  to  crave  and  to  curse 

The  sweet  thing  once  within. 
Accuse  him :  some  devil  committed  the  theft, 

Which  leaves  of  the  portly  a  skin, 

No  more;  of  the  weighty  a  whine. 

Pursue  him:  and  first,  to  be  sure  of  his  track, 
Over  devious  ways  that  have  led  to  this, 

In  the  stream's  consecutive  line, 

Let  memory  lead  thee  back 
To  where  waves  Morning  her  fleur-de-lys, 
Unflushed  at  the  front  of  the  roseate  door 
Unopened  yet :  never  shadow  there 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  391 

Of  a  Tartarus  lighted  by  Dis 

For  souls  whose  cry  is,  alack! 
An  ivory  cradle  rocks,  apeep 
Through  his  eyelashes'  laugh,  a  breathing  pearL 


There  the  young  chief  of  the  animals  wore 
A  likeness  to  heavenly  hosts,  unaware 
Of  his  love  of  himself;  with  the  hours  at  leap. 
In  a  dingle  away  from  a  rutted  highroad. 
Around  him  the  earliest  throstle  and  merle, 
Our  human  smile  between  milk  and  sleep. 

Effervescent  of  Nature  he  crowed. 
Fair  was  that  season ;  furl  over  furl 
The  banners  of  blossom;  a  dancing  floor 
This  earth;  very  angels  the  clouds;  and  fair 
Thou  on  the  tablets  of  forehead  and  breast : 
Careless,  a  centre  of  vigilant  care. 
Thy  mother  kisses  an  infant  curl. 
The  room  of  the  toys  was  a  boundless  nest, 
A  kingdom  the  field  of  the  games. 
Till  entered  the  craving  for  more. 
And  the  worshipped  small  body  had  aims. 
A  good  little  idol,  as  records  attest, 
When  they  tell  of  him  lightly  appeased  in  a  scream 
By  sweets  and  caresses :  he  gave  but  sign, 
That  the  heir  of  a  purse-plumped  dominant  race, 
Accustomed  to  plenty,  not  dumb  would  pine. 
Almost  magician,  his  earliest  dream 
Was  lord  of  the  unpossessed 
For  a  look;  himself  and  his  chase, 


392  A  KEADING  OF  EARTH 

As  on  puffs  of  a  wind  at  whirl, 
Made  one  in  the  wink  of  a  gleam. 
She  kisses  a  locket  curl, 
She  conjures  to  vision  a  cherub  face, 
When  her  butterfly  counted  his  day 
All  meadow  and  flowers,  mishap 
Derided,  and  taken  for  play 
The  fling  of  an  urchin's  cap. 


When  her  butterfly  showed  him  an  eaglet  born, 

Eor  preying  too  heedlessly  bred. 

What  a  heart  clapped  in  thee  thenl 

With  what  fuller  colours  of  morn! 
And  high  to  the  uttermost  heavens  it  flew, 

Swift  as  on  poet's  pen. 

It  flew  to  be  wedded,  to  wed 

The  mystery  scented  around : 

Issue  of  flower  and  dew. 

Issue  of  light  and  sound: 

Thinner  than  either;  a  thread 

Spun  of  the  dream  they  threw 

To  kindle,  allure,  evade. 
It  ran  the  sea-wave,  the  garden's  dance. 
To  the  forest's  dark  heart  down  a  dappled  glade; 

Led  on  by  a  perishing  glance. 

By  a  twinkle's  eternal  waylaid. 
Woman,  the  name  was,  when  she  took  form; 
Sheaf  of  the  wonders  of  life.     She  fled. 
Close  imaged;  she  neared,  far  seen.     How  she  made 
Palpitate  earth  of  the  living  and  dead  I 


A   READING   OF  EARTH  393 

Did  she  not  show  thee  the  world  designed 
Solely  for  loveliness?    Nested  warm, 
The  day  was  the  morrow  in  flight.     And  for  thee, 
She  muted  the  discords,  tuned,  refined; 
Drowned  sharp  edges  beneath  her  cloak. 
Eye  of  the  waters  and  throb  of  the  tree, 
Sliding  on  radiance,  winging  from  shade. 
With  her  witch-whisper  o'er  ruins,  in  reeds, 
She  sang  low  the  song  of  her  promise  delayed; 
Beckoned  and  died,  as  a  finger  of  smoke 
Astream  over  woodland.     And  was  not  she 
History's  heroines  white  on  storm? 
Remember  her  summons  to  valorous  deeds. 
Shone  she  a  lure  of  the  honey-bag  swarm, 
Most  was  her  beam  on  the  knightly :  she  led 
For  the  honours  of  manhood  more  than  the  prize; 

Waved  her  magnetical  yoke 

Whither  the  warrior  bled. 

Ere  to  the  bower  of  sighs. 
And  shy  of  her  secrets  she  was;  under  deeps 
Plunged  at  the  breath  of  a  thirst  that  woke 
The  dream  in  the  cave  where  the  Dreaded  sleeps. 


Away  over  heaven  the  young  heart  flew, 
And  caught  many  lustres,  till  some  one  said 
(Or  was  it  the  thought  into  hearing  grew?), 

Not  thou  as  commo7ier  men! 

Thy  stature  puffed  and  it  swayed, 

It  stiffened  to  royal-erect; 

A  brassy  trumpet  brayed; 


394  A   READING   OF   EARTH 

A  wliirling  seized  thy  head; 
The  vision  of  beauty  was  flecked. 
Note  well  the  how  and  the  when, 
The  thing  that  prompted  and  sped. 

Thereanon  the  keen  passions  clapped  wing, 

Fixed  eye,  and  the  world  was  prey. 
No  simple  world  of  thy  greenblade  Spring, 

Nor  world  of  thy  flowerful  prime 

On  the  topmost  Orient  peak 

Above  a  yet  vaporous  day. 

Flesh  was  it,  breast  to  beak : 
A  four-walled  windowless  world  without  ray, 
Only  darkening  jets  on  a  river  of  slime, 
Where  harsh  over  music  as  woodland  jay, 

A  voice  chants.  Woe  to  the  weak  I 

And  along  an  insatiate  feast, 

Women  and  men  are  one 

In  the  cup  transforming  to  beast. 

Magian  worship  they  paid  to  their  sun. 
Lord  of  the  Purse!     Behold  him  climb. 

Stalked  ever  such  figure  of  fun 
For  monarch  in  great-grin  pantomime? 
See  now  the  heart  dwindle,  the  frame  distend; 
The  soul  to  its  anchorite  cavern  retreat, 
From  a  life  that  reeks  of  the  rotted  end; 
While  he  —  is  he  pictureable?  rei)lete. 
Gourd-like  swells  of  the  rank  of  the  soil. 

Hollow,  more  hollow  at  core. 

And  for  him  did  tlie  liundreds  toil 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  395 

Despised;  in  the  cold  and  heat, 

This  image  ridiculous  bore 

On  their  shoulders  for  morsels  of  meat! 

Gross,  with  the  fumes  of  incense  full, 
With  parasites  tickled,  with  slaves  begirt, 
He  strutted,  a  cock,  he  bellowed,  a  bull, 

He  rolled  him,  a  dog,  in  dirt. 
And  dog,  bull,  cock,  was  he,  fanged,  horned,  plumedj 
Original  man,  as  philosophers  vouch; 
Carnivorous,  cannibal;  length-long  exhumed, 
Frightfully  living  and  armed  to  devour; 
The  primitive  weapons  of  prey  in  his  pouch; 

The  bait,  the  line  and  the  hook : 

To  feed  on  his  fellows  intent. 

God  of  the  Danae  shower, 

He  had  but  to  follow  his  bent. 
He  battened  on  fowl  not  safely  hutched, 

On  sheep  astray  from  the  crook ; 

A  lure  for  the  foolish  in  fold. 
To  carrion  turning  what  flesh  he  touched. 

And  0  the  grace  of  his  air, 

As  he  at  the  goblet  sips, 

A  centre  of  girdles  loosed, 

With  their  grisly  label.  Sold! 
Credulous  hears  the  fidelity  swear, 
Which  has  roving  eyes  over  yielded  lips : 
To-morrow  will  fancy  himself  the  seduced, 

The  stuck  in  a  treacherous  slough, 
Because  of  his  faith  in  a  purchased  pair, 

False  to  a  vinous  vow. 


396  A  HEADING   OF   EARTH 

In  his  glory  of  banquet  strip  him  bare, 
And  what  is  the  creature  we  view? 

Our  pursy  Apollo  Apollyon's  tool; 
A  small  one,  still  of  the  crew 
By  serpent  Apollyon  blest: 

His  plea  in  apology,  blindfold  Fool. 

A  fool  surcharged,  propelled,  unwarmed; 
Not  viler,  you  hear  him  protest: 

Of  a  popular  countenance  not  incorrect. 

But  deeds  are  the  picture  in  essence,  deeds 
Paint  him  the  hooved  and  horned, 
Despite  the  poor  pother  he  pleads, 
And  his  look  of  a  nation's  elect. 

We  have  him,  our  quarry  confessed! 
And  scan  him :  the  features  inspect 
Of  that  bestial  multiform :  cry, 
Corroborate  I,  0  Samian  Sage! 

The  book  of  thy  wisdom,  proved 
On  me,  its  last  hieroglyph  page, 
Alive  in  the  horned  and  hooved? 
Thou !  will  he  make  reply. 

Thus  has  the  plenary  purse 
Done  often:  to  do  will  engage 
Anew  upon  all  of  thy  like,  or  worse. 

And  now  is  thy  deepest  regret 
To  be  man,  clean  rescued  from  beast: 
From  the  grip  of  the  Sorcerer,  Gold, 
Celestially  released. 


A  READING  OF  EARTH  397 

But  now  from  his  cavernous  hold, 

Free  may  thy  soul  be  set, 
As  a  child  of  the  Death  and  the  Life,  to  learn, 

Refreshed  by  some  bodily  sweat, 

The  meaning  of  either  in  turn, 

What  issue  may  come  of  the  two :  — 
A  morn  beyond  mornings,  beyond  all  reach 
Of  emotional  arms  at  the  stretch  to  enfold : 
A  firmament  passing  our  visible  blue. 
To  those  having  nought  to  reflect  it,  't  is  nought; 
To  those  who  are  misty,  't  is  mist  on  the  beach 
From  the  billow  withdrawing ;  to  those  who  see 

Earth,  our  mother,  in  thought. 

Her  spirit  it  is,  our  key. 

Ay,  the  Life  and  the  Death  are  her  words  to  us  here, 

Of  one  significance,  pricking  the  blind. 

This  is  thy  gain  now  the  surface  is  clear : 

To  read  with  a  soul  in  the  mirror  of  mind. 

Is  man's  chief  lesson.  —Thou  smilest!  I  preach! 

Acid  smiling,  my  friend,  reveals 
Abysses  within;  frigid  preaching  a  street 

Paved  unconcernedly  smooth 

For  the  lecturer  straight  on  his  heels. 

Up  and  down  a  policeman's  beat; 

Bearing  tonics  not  labelled  to  soothe. 
Thou  hast  a  disgust  of  the  sermon  in  rhyme. 
It  is  not  attractive  in  being  too  chaste. 
The  popular  tale  of  adventure  and  crime 
Would  equally  sicken  an  overdone  taste. 
So,  then,  onward.     Philosophy,  thoughtless  to  soothe, 
Lifts,  if  thou  wilt,  or  thexe  leaves  thee  supine. 


398  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

Thy  condition,  good  sooth,  has  no  seeming  of  sweet; 
It  walks  our  first  crags,  it  is  flint  for  the  tooth, 

For  the  thirsts  of  our  nature  brine. 
But  manful  has  met  it,  manful  will  meet. 
And  think  of  thy  privilege :  supple  with  youth, 

To  have  sight  of  the  headlong  swine. 

Once  fouling  thee,  jumping  the  dips! 

As  the  coin  of  thy  purse  poured  out: 

An  animal's  holiday  past: 
And  free  of  them  thou,  to  begin  a  new  bout; 
To  start  a  fresh  hunt  on  a  resolute  blast: 
No  more  an  imp-ridden  to  bournes  of  eclipse: 
Having  knowledge  to  spur  thee,  a  gift  to  compare; 
Eubbing  shoulder  to  shoulder,  as  only  the  book 
Of  the  world  can  be  read,  by  necessity  urged. 
For  witness,  what  blinkers  are  they  who  look 
From  the  state  of  the  prince  or  the  millionnairel 

They  see  but  the  fish  they  attract, 

The  hungers  on  them  converged; 
And  never  the  thought  in  the  shell  of  the  act, 

Nor  ever  life's  fangless  mirth. 
But  first,  that  the  poisonous  of  thee  be  purged, 

Go  into  thyself,  strike  Earth. 
She  is  there,  she  is  felt  in  a  blow  struck  hard. 
Thou  findest  a  pugilist  countering  quick, 
Cunning  at  drives  where  thy  shutters  are  barred; 
Not,  after  the  studied  professional  trick. 
Blue-sealing;  she  brightens  the  sight.     Strike  Earth, 
Antaeus,  young  giant,  whom  fortune  trips! 

And  thou  com'st  on  a  saving  fact, 

To  nourish  thy  planted  worth. 


A  BEADING   OF  EARTH  399 

Be  it  clay,  flint,  mud,  or  the  rubble  of  chips, 
Thy  roots  have  grasp  in  the  stern-exact : 
The  redemption  of  sinners  deluded!  the  last 

Dry  handful,  that  bruises  and  saves. 
To  the  common  big  heart  are  we  bound  right  fast, 

When  our  Mother  admonishing  nips 

At  the  nakedness  bare  of  a  clout, 

And  we  crave  what  the  commonest  craves. 

This  wealth  was  a  fortress-wall, 
Under  which  grew  our  grim  little  beast-god  stout; 
Self- worshipped,  the  foe,  in  division  from  all; 
With  crowds  of  illogical  Christians,  no  doubt; 

Till  the  rescuing  earthquake  cracked. 

Thus  are  we  man  made  firm; 

Made  warm  by  the  numbers  compact. 
We  follow  no  longer  a  trumpet-snout,       , 

At  a  trot  where  the  hog  is  tracked, 

Nor  wriggle  the  way  of  the  worm. 

Thou  wilt  spare  us  the  cynical  pout 
At  humanity :  sign  of  a  nature  bechurled. 

No  stenchy  anathemas  cast 

Upon  Providence,  women,  the  world. 
Distinguish  thy  tempers  and  trim  tiiy  wits. 
The  purchased  are  things  of  the  mart,  not  classed 
Among  resonant  types  that  have  freely  grown. 
Thy  knowledge  of  women  might  be  surpassed: 
As  any  sad  dog's  of  sweet  flesh  when  he  quits 

The  wayside  wandering  bone! 
No  revilings  of  comrades  as  ingrates :  thee 


400  A  READING   OF  EARTH 

The  tempter,  misleader,  and  criminal  (screened 

By  laws  yet  barbarous)  own. 
If  some  one  performed  Fiend's  deputy, 

He  was  for  awhile  the  Fiend. 


Still,  nursing  a  passion  to  speak, 
As  the  punch-bowl  does,  in  the  moral  vein. 

When  the  ladle  has  finished  its  leak, 
And  the  vessel  is  loquent  of  nature's  inane, 

Hie  where  the  demagogues  roar 
Like  a  Phalaris  bull,  with  the  victim's  force: 

Hurrah  to  their  jolly  attack 

On  a  City  that  smokes  of  the  Plain; 

A  city  of  sin's  death-dyes. 

Holding  revel  of  worms  in  a  corse; 

A  city  of  malady  sore, 

Over-ripe  for  the  big  doom's  crack: 

A  city  of  hymnical  snore; 

Connubial  truths  and  lies 

Demanding  an  instant  divorce. 

Clean  as  the  bright  from  the  black. 
It  were  well  for  thy  system  to  sermonize. 
There  are  giants  to  slay,  and  they  call  for  their  Jack. 

Then  up  stand  thou  in  the  midst: 
Thy  good  grain  out  of  thee  thresh. 
Hand  upon  heart :  relate 
What  things  thou  legally  did'st 
For  the  Archseducer  of  flesh. 
Omitting  the  murmurs  at  women  and  fate, 


A  READING   OF  EARTH 

Confess  thee  an  instrument  armed 
To  be  snare  of  our  wanton,  our  weak, 
Of  all  by  the  sensual  charmed. 
For  once  shall  repentance  be  done  by  the  tongue: 
Speak,  though  execrate,  speak 
A  word  on  grandmotherly  Laws 
Giving  rivers  of  gold  to  our  young, 
In  the  days  of  their  hungers  impure; 
To  furnish  them  beak  and  claws, 
And  make  them  a  banquet's  lure. 


Thou  the  example,  saved 
Miraculously  by  this  poor  skin! 

Thereat  let  the  Purse  be  waved: 
The  snake-slough  sick  of  the  snaky  sin: 
A  devil,  if  devil  as  devil  behaved 
Ever,  thou  knowest,  look  thou  but  in, 
Where  he  shivers,  a  culprit  fettered  and  shaved; 
0  a  bird  stripped  of  feather,  a  fish  clipped  of  fin 


401 


And  commend  for  a  washing  the  torrents  of  wrath, 
Which  hurl  at  the  foe  of  the  dearest  men  prize, 

Kough-roUing  boulders  and  froth. 
Gigantical  enginery  they  can  command. 
For  the  crushing  of  enemies  not  of  great  size: 

But  hold  to  thy  desperate  stand. 
Men's  right  of  bequeatliing  their  all  to  their  own 
(With  little  regard  for  the  creatures  they  squeezed); 
Their  mill  and  mill-water  and  nether  mill-stone 


;iti 


402  A  KEADLNG   OF   EARTH 

Tied  fast  to  their  infant;  lo,  this  is  the  last 

Of  their  hungers,  by  prudent  devices  appeased. 

The  law  they  decree  is  their  ultimate  slave; 

Wherein  we  perceive  old  Voracity  glassed. 

It  works  from  their  dust,  and  it  reeks  of  their  grave. 

Point  them  to  greener,  though  Journals  be  guns; 

To  brotherly  fields  under  fatherly  skies; 

Where  the  savage  still  primitive  learns  of  a  debt 

He  has  owed  since  he  drummed  on  his  belly  for  war; 

And  how  for  his  giving,  the  more  will  he  get; 

For  trusting  his  fellows,  leave  friends  round  his  sons. 

Till  they  see,  with  the  gape  of  a  startled  surprise, 

Their  adored  tyrant-monster  a  brute  to  abhor, 

The  sun  of  their  system  a  father  of  flies  1 


So,  for  such  good  hope,  take  their  scourge  unashamed; 
'Tis  the  portion  of  them  who  civilize. 

Who  speak  the  word  novel  and  true : 
How  the  brutish  antique  of  our  springs  may  be  tamed, 
Without  loss  of  the  strength  that  should  push  us  to  flower; 
How  the  God  of  old  time  will  act  Satan  of  new. 
If  we  keep  him  not  straight  at  the  higher  God  aimed; 
For  whose  habitation  within  us  we  scour 
This  house  of  our  life;  where  our  bitterest  pains 
Are  those  to  eject  the  Infernal,  who  heaps 
Mire  on  the  soul.     Take  stripes  or  chains; 

Grip  at  thy  standard  reviled. 
And  what  if  our  body  be  dashed  from  the  steeps? 

Our  spoken  in  protest  remains. 

A  young  generation  reaps. 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  403 

The  young  generation !  ah,  there  is  the  child 

Of  our  souls  down  the  Ages !  to  bleed  for  it,  proof 

That  souls  we  have,  with  our  senses  filed, 

Our  shuttles  at  thread  of  the  woof. 

May  it  be  braver  than  ours, 
,To  encounter  the  rattle  of  hostile  bolts, 
.To  look  on  the  rising  of  Stranger  Powers. 
May  it  know  how  the  mind  in  expansion  revolts 
From  a  nursery  Past  with  dead  letters  aloof, 
'And  the  piping  to  stupor  of  Precedents  shun , 
In  a  field  where  the  forefather  print  of  the  hoof 
Is  not  yet  overgrassed  by  the  watering  hours, 
And  should  prompt  us  to  Change,  as  to  promise  of  sun, 
- .  Till  brain-rule  splendidly  towers. 

For  that  large  light  we  have  laboured  and  tramped 
Thorough  forest  and  bogland,  still  to  perceive 

Our  animate  morning  stamped 

With  the  lines  of  a  sombre  eve. 

A  timorous  thing  ran  the  innocent  hind. 

When  the  wolf  was  the  hypocrite  fang  under  hood, 

The  snake  a  lithe  lurker  up  sleeve. 

And  the  lion  effulgently  ramped. 
Then  our  forefather  hoof  did  its  work  in  the  wood, 

By  right  of  the  better  in  kind. 
But  now  will  it  breed  yon  bestial  brood 
Three-fold  thrice  over,  if  bent  to  bind. 

As  the  healthy  in  chains  with  the  sick, 
Unto  despot  usage  our  issuing  mind. 
It  signifies  battle  or  death's  dull  knell. 


404^  A  READING  OF  EABTH 

Precedents  icily  written  on  high, 

Challenge  the  Tentatives  hot  to  rebel. 

Our  Mother,  who  speeds  her  bloomful  quick 

For  the  march,  reads  which  the  impediment  well. 

She  smiles  when  of  sapience  is  their  boast. 

0  loose  of  the  tug  between  blood  run  dry 

And  blood  running  flame  may  our  offspring  runl 

May  brain  democratic  be  king  of  the  host! 

Less  then  shall  the  volumes  of  History  tell 

Of  the  step  in  progression,  the  slip  in  relapse, 

That  counts  us  a  sand-slack  inch  hard  won, 

Beneath  an  oppressive  incumbent  perhaps. 

Let  the  senile  lords  in  a  parchment  sky, 

And  the  generous  turbulents  drunken  of  morn, 

Their  battle  of  instincts  put  by, 

A  moment  examine  this  field: 
On  a  Roman  street  cast  thoughtful  eye, 
Along  to  the  mounts  from  the  bog-forest  weald. 
It  merits  a  glance  at  our  history's  maps. 
To  see  across  Britain's  old  shaggy  unshorn. 
Through  the  Parties  in  strife  internecine,  foot 
The  ruler's  close-reckoned  direct  to  the  mark. 
From  the  head  ran  the  vanquisher's  orderly  route, 
In  the  stride  of  his  forts  through  the  tangle  and  dark. 
From  the  head  runs  the  paved  firm  way  for  advance. 
And  we  shoulder,  we  wrangle!     The  light  on  us  shed, 
Shows  dense  beetle  blackness  in  swarm,  lurid  Chance, 
The  Goddess  of  gamblers,  above.     From  the  head, 
Then  when  it  worked  for  the  birth  of  a  star 
Fraternal  with  heaven's  in  beauty  and  ray, 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  405 

Sprang  the  Acropolis.     Ask  what  crown 

Comes  of  our  tides  of  the  blood  at  war, 

For  men  to  bequeath  generations  down! 

And  ask  what  thou  wast  when  the  Purse  was  brimmed: 

What  high-bounding  ball  for  the  Gods  at  play : 

A  Conservative  youth !  who  the  cream-bowl  skimmed, 

Desiring  affairs  to  be  left  as  they  are. 


So,  thou  takest  Youth's  natural  place  in  the  fray, 

As  a  Tentative,  combating  Peace, 

Our  lullaby  word  for  decay.  — 

There  will  come  an  immediate  decree 
In  thy  mind  for  the  opposite  party's  decease, 

If  he  bends  not  an  instant  knee. 
Expunge  it :  extinguishing  counts  poor  gain. 

And  accept  a  mild  word  of  police :  — 

Be  mannerly,  measured;  refrain 
From  the  puffings  of  him  of  the  bagpipe  cheeks. 
Our  political,  even  as  the  merchant  main, 

A  temperate  gale  requires 

For  the  ship  that  haven  seeks; 
Neither  God  of  the  winds  nor  his  bellowsy  squires. 

Then  observe  the  antagonist,  con 
His  reasons  for  rocking  the  lullaby  word. 
You  stand  on  a  different  stage  of  the  stairs. 
He  fought  certain  battles,  yon  senile  lord. 
In  the  strength  of  thee,  feel  his  bequest  to  hit;  heirs. 
We  are  now  on  his  inches  of  ground  liard  won, 
For  a  perch  to  a  flight  o'er  his  resting  fence. 


406  A  READING   OF  EARTH 

Does  it  knock  too  hard  at  thy  head  if  I  say, 

That  Time  is  both  father  and  son? 
Tough  lesson,  when  senses  are  floods  over  sense  1  — 

Discern  the  paternal  of  Now 

As  the  Then  of  thy  present  tense. 

You  may  pull  as  you  will  either  way, 

You  can  never  be  other  than  one. 

So,  be  filial.     Giants  to  slay, 

Demand  knowing  eyes  in  their  Jack. 
There  are  those  whom  we  push  from  the  path  with  respect 
Bow  to  that  elder,  though  seeing  him  bow 
To  the  backward  as  well,  for  a  thunderous  back 
Upon  thee.     In  his  day  he  was  not  all  wrong. 
Unto  some  foundered  zenith  he  strove,  and  was  wrecked. 
He  scrambled  to  shore  with  a  worship  of  shore. 
The  Future  he  sees  as  the  slippery  murk; 
The  Past  as  his  doctrinal  library  lore. 
He  stands  now  the  rock  to  the  wave's  wild  wash. 
Yet  thy  lumpish  antagonist  once  did  work 

Heroical,  one  of  our  strong. 
His  gold  to  retain  and  his  dross  reject, 
Engage  him,  but  humour,  not  aiming  to  quash. 

Detest  the  dead  squat  of  the  Turk, 

And  suffice  it  to  move  him  along. 

Drink  of  faith  in  the  brains  a  full  draught 
Before  the  oration :  beware 
Lest  rhetoric  moonily  waft 
Whither  horrid  activities  snare, 
lilietoric,  juice  for  the  mob 
Despising  more  luminous  grape. 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  407 

Oft  at  its  fount  has  it  laughed 
In  the  cataracts  rolling  for  rape 
Of  a  Reason  left  single  to  sob! 

'T  is  known  how  the  permanent  never  is  writ 
In  blood  of  the  passions :  mercurial  they, 
Shifty  their  issue:  stir  not  that  pit 
To  the  game  our  brutes  best  play. 

But  with  rhetoric  loose,  can  we  check  man's  brute? 
Assemblies  of  men  on  their  legs  invoke 
Excitement  for  wholesome  diversion :  there  shoot 
Electrical  sparks  between  their  dry  thatch 
And  thy  waved  torch,  more  to  kindle  than  light. 
'T  is  instant  between  you :  the  trick  of  a  catch 

(To  match  a  Batrachian  croak) 
Will  thump  them  a  frenzy  or  fun  in  their  veins. 
Then  may  it  be  rather  the  well-worn  joke 
Thou  repeatest,  to  stop  conflagration,  and  write 
Penance  for  rhetoric.     Strange  will  it  seem, 
When  thou  readest  that  form  of  thy  homage  to  brains! 

Eor  the  secret  why  demagogues  fail, 
Though  they  carry  hot  mobs  to  the  red  extreme, 

And  knock  out  or  knock  in  the  nail 

(We  will  rank  them  as  flatly  sincere, 

Devoutly  detesting  a  wrong, 
Engines  o'ercharged  with  our  human  steam). 
Question  thee,  seething  amid  tlie  throng. 
And  ask,  whether  Wisdom  is  born  of  blood-heat; 
Or  of  other  than  Wisdom  comes  victory  here; — ■ 
Aught  more  than  the  banquet  and  roundelay, 


408  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

That  is  closed  with  a  terrible  terminal  wail, 

A  retributive  black  ding-dong? 
And  ask  of  thyself :  This  furious  Yea 

Of  a  speech  I  thump  to  repeat, 

In  the  cause  I  would  have  prevail, 

For  seed  of  a  nourishing  wheat, 

Is  it  accepted  of  Song  ? 

Does  it  sound  to  the  mind  through  the  ear. 
Right  sober,  pure  sane?  has  it  disciplined  feet? 

Thou  wilt  find  it  a  test  severe; 

Unerring  whatever  the  theme. 
Rings  it  for  Reason  a  melody  clear, 

We  have  bidden  old  Chaos  retreat; 

We  have  called  on  Creation  to  hear; 
All  forces  that  make  us  are  one  full  stream. 

Simple  islander!  thus  may  the  spirit  in  verse, 
Showing  its  practical  value  and  weight, 
Pipe  to  thee  clear  from  the  Empty  Purse, 
Lead  thee  aloft  to  that  high  estate.  — 
The  test  is  conclusive,  I  deem: 
It  embraces  or  mortally  bites. 
We  have  then  the  key-note  for  debate: 
A  Senate  that  sits  on  the  heights 
Over  discords,  to  shape  and  amend. 

And  no  singer  is  needed  to  serve 
The  musical  God,  my  friend. 
Needs  only  liis  law  on  a  sensible  nerve: 
A  law  that  to  Measure  invites, 
Forbidding  the  passions  contend. 


A  KEADING   OF   EARTH  409 

Is  it  accepted  of  Song  ? 

And  if  then  the  bluut  answer  be  Nay, 
Dislink  thee  sharp  from  the  ramping  horde, 
Slaves  of  the  Goddess  of  hoar-old  sway, 

The  Queen  of  delirous  rites, 
Queen  of  those  issueless  mobs,  that  rend 
For  frenzy  the  strings  of  a  fruitful  accord, 
Pursuing  insensate,  seething  in  throng, 
Their  wild  idea  to  its  ashen  end. 
Off  to  their  Phrygia,  shriek  and  gong, 
Shorn  from  their  fellows,  behold  them  wend! 

But  thou,  should  the  answer  ring  Ay, 

Hast  warrant  of  seed  for  thy  word : 

The  musical  God  is  nigh 
To  inspirit  and  temper,  tune  it,  and  steer 

Through  the  shoals :  is  it  worthy  of  Song, 

There  are  souls  all  woman  to  hear, 

Woman  to  bear  and  renew. 
For  he  is  the  iSIaster  of  Measure,  and  weighs, 

Broad  as  the  arms  of  his  blue. 

Fine  as  the  web  of  his  rays. 
Justice,  whose  voice  is  a  melody  clear, 
The  one  sure  life  for  the  numbered  long. 

From  him  are  the  brutal  and  vain, 

The  vile,  the  excessive,  out-thrust: 
He  points  to  the  God  on  the  upmost  throne : 

He  is  the  saver  of  grain. 

The  sifter  of  spirit  from  dust. 
He,  Harmony,  tells  how  to  Measure  pertain 

The  virilities :  IMeasure  alone 

Has  votaries  rich  in  the  male : 


410  A  BEADING  OF  EARTH 

Fathers  embracing  no  cloud, 

Sowing  no  harvestless  main: 
Alike  by  the  flesh  and  the  spirit  endowed 
To  create,  to  perpetuate;  woo,  win,  wedj 
Send  progeny  streaming,  have  earth  for  their  own, 
Over-run  the  insensates,  disperse  with  a  pufE 

Simulacra,  though  solid  they  sail, 

And  seem  such  imperial  stuff: 

Yes,  the  living  divide  off  the  dead. 

Then  thou  with  thy  furies  outgrown, 
Not  as  Cybele's  beast  will  thy  head  lash  tail 
So  praeter-determinedly  thermonous. 
Nor  thy  cause  be  an  Attis  far  fled. 
Thou  under  stress  of  the  strife, 
Shalt  hear  for  sustainment  supreme, 
The  cry  of  the  conscience  of  Life: 
Keep  the  young  generations  in  hail, 
And  bequeath  them  no  tumbled  house  ! 

There  hast  thou  the  sacred  theme, 
Therein  the  inveterate  spur. 
Of  the  Innermost.     See  her  one  blink 
In  vision  past  eyeballs.     Not  thee 
She  cares  for,  but  us.     Follow  her. 
Follow  her,  and  thou  wilt  not  sink. 
With  thy  soul  the  Life  espouse : 
This  Life  of  the  visible,  audible,  ring 
With  thy  love  tight  about;  and  no  death  will  bej 
The  name  be  an  empty  thing, 
And  woe  a  forgotten  old  trick: 
And  battle  will  come  as  a  challenge  to  drink; 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  411 

As  a  warrior's  wound  each  transient  sting. 
She  leads  to  the  Uppermost  link  by  link} 
Exacts  but  vision,  desires  not  vows. 
Above  us  the  singular  number  to  see ; 
The  plural  warm  round  us ;  ourself  in  the  thick, 
A  dot  or  a  stop :  that  is  our  task ; 
Her  lesson  in  figured  arithmetic, 
For  the  letters  of  Life  behind  its  mask ; 
-/      Her  flower-like  look  under  fearful  brows. 

As  for  thy  special  case,  0  my  friend,  one  must  think 
Massilia's  victim,  who  held  the  carouse 

For  the  length  of  a  carnival  year, 
Knew  worse :  but  the  wretch  had  his  opening  choice. 
For  thee,  by  our  law,  no  alternatives  were : 
Thy  fall  was  assured  ere  thou  camest  to  a  voice. 

He  cancelled  the  ravaging  Plague, 

With  the  roll  of  his  fat  off  the  cliff. 
Do  thou  with  thy  lean  as  the  weapon  of  ink, 
Though  they  call  thee  an  angler  who  fishes  the  vague 

And  catches  the  not  too  pink. 
Attack  one  as  murderous,  knowing  thy  cause 
Is  the  cause  of  community.     Iterate, 
Iterate,  iterate,  harp  on  the  trite : 
Our  preacher  to  win  is  the  supple  in  stiff: 
Yet  always  in  measure,  with  bearing  polite: 
The  manner  of  one  that  would  expiate 

His  share  in  grandmotherly  Laws, 

Which  do  the  dark  thing  to  destroy, 
Under  aspect  of  water  so  guilelessly  white 
For  the  general  use,  by  the  devils  befouled. 


412  A  READING   OF   EARTH 

Enough,  poor  prodigal  boy! 
Thou  hast  listened  with  patience;  another  had  howled. 
Kepentance  is  proved,  forgiveness  is  earned. 
And  't  is  bony :  denied  thee  thy  succulent  half 
Of  the  parable's  blessing  to  swineherd  returned: 
A  Sermon  thy  slice  of  the  Scriptural  calf! 

By  my  faith,  there  is  feasting  to  come, 

Not  the  less,  when  our  Earth  we  have  seen 
Beneath  and  on  surface,  her  deeds  and  designs: 
Who  gives  us  the  man-loving  Nazarene, 
The  martyrs,  the  poets,  the  corn  and  the  vines. 
By  my  faith  in  the  head,  she  has  wonders  in  loom; 
Revelations,  delights.  I  can  hear  a  faint  crow 
Of  the  cock  of  fresh  mornings,  far,  far,  yet  distinct; 

As  down  the  new  shafting  of  mines, 

A  cry  of  the  metally  gnome. 

When  our  Earth  we  have  seen,  and  have  linked 
With  the  home  of  the  Spirit  to  whom  we  unfold, 
Imprisoned  humanity  open  will  throw 
Its  fortress  gates,  and  the  rivers  of  gold 

For  the  congregate  friendliness  flow. 
Then  the  meaning  of  Earth  in  her  children  behold: 
Glad  eyes,  frank  hands,  and  a  fellowship  real: 
And  laugliter  on  lips,  as  the  birds'  outburst 
At  the  flooding  of  light.     No  robbery  then 
The  feast,  nor  a  robber's  abode  the  home, 
For  a  furnislied  model  of  our  first  den! 

Nor  Life  as  a  stationed  wlieel ; 
Nor  History  written  in  blood  or  in  foam. 
For  vendetta  of  Parties  in  cursing  accursed. 


A  READING   OF   EARTH  413 

The  God  in  the  conscience  of  multitudes  feel, 

And  we  feel  deep  to  Earth  at  her  heart, 

We  have  her  communion  with  men, 

New  ground,  new  skies  for  appeal. 
Yield  into  harness  thy  best  and  thy  worst; 
Away  on  the  trot  of  thy  servitude  start, 
Through  the  rigours  and  joys  and  sustainments  of  air. 
If  courage  should  falter,  't  is  wholesome  to  kneel. 
Remember  that  well,  for  the  secret  with  some. 
Who  pray  for  no  gift,  but  have  cleansing  in  prayer. 
And  free  from  impurities  tower-like  stand. 
I  promise  not  more,  save  that  feasting  will  come 
To  a  mind  and  a  body  no  longer  inversed : 
The  sense  of  large  charity  over  the  land, 
Earth's  wheaten  of  wisdom  dispensed  in  the  rough, 
And  a  bell  ringing  thanks  for  a  sustenance  meal 

Through  the  active  machine:  lean  fare, 
But  it  carries  a  sparkle !     And  now  enough, 

And  part  we  as  comrades  part. 
To  meet  again  never  or  some  day  or  soon. 

Our  season  of  drought  is  reminder  rude :  — 

No  later  than  yesternoon, 

I  looked  on  the  horse  of  a  cart, 

By  the  wayside  water-trough. 
How  at  every  draught  of  his  bride  of  thirst 
His  nostrils  widened!     The  sight  was  good: 

Food  for  us,  food,  such  as  first 

Drew  our  thoughts  to  earth's  lowly  for  food. 


JUMP-TO-GLOEY  JANE 


A  REVELATION  cauie  on  Jane, 

The  widow  of  a  labouring  swain: 

And  first  her  body  trembled  sharp, 

Then  all  the  woman  was  a  harp 

With  winds  along  the  strings ;  she  heard, 

Though  there  was  neither  tone  nor  word. 

II 

For  past  our  hearing  was  the  air, 
Beyond  our  speaking  what  it  bare, 
And  she  within  herself  had  sight 
Of  heaven  at  work  to  cleanse  outright, 
To  make  of  her  a  mansion  fit 
For  angel  hosts  inside  to  sit. 

Ill 

They  entered,  and  forthwith  entranced. 
Her  body  braced,  her  members  danced ; 
Surprisingly  the  woman  leapt; 
And  countenance  composed  she  kept ; 
As  gossip  neighbours  in  the  lane 
Declared,  who  saw  and  pitied  Jane. 


A  BEADING  OP  EARTH  4l5 


IV 

These  knew  she  had  been  reading  books, 

The  which  was  witnessed  by  her  looks 

Of  late  :  she  had  a  mania 

For  mad  folk  in  America, 

And  said  for  sure  they  led  the  way, 

But  meat  and  beer  were  meant  to  stay. 


That  she  had  visited  a  fair, 
Had  seen  a  gauzy  lady  there. 
Alive  with  tricks  on  legs  alone, 
As  good  as  wings,  was  also  known : 
And  longwhiles  in  a  sullen  mood. 
Before  her  jumping,  Jane  would  brood. 


VI 


A  good  knee's  height,  they  say,  she  sprang; 

Her  arms  and  feet  like  those  who  hang : 

As  if  afire  the  body  sped, 

And  neither  pair  contributed. 

She  jumped  in  silence  :  she  was  thought 

A  corpse  to  resurrection  caught. 


416  A  READING  OF  EARTH 


vn 


The  villagers  were  mostly  dazed ; 

They  jeered,  they  wondered,  and  they  praiseA. 

'T  was  guessed  by  some  she  was  inspired, 

And  some  would  have  it  she  had  hired 

An  engine  in  her  petticoats. 

To  turn  their  wits  and  win  their  votes. 


VIII 

Her  first  was  Winny  Earnes,  a  kind 
Of  woman  not  to  dance  inclined ; 
But  she  went  up,  entirely  won. 
Ere  Jump-to-glory  Jane  had  done  ; 
And  once  a  vixen  wild  for  speech. 
She  found  the  better  way  to  preach. 


IX 


No  long  time  after,  Jane  was  seen 
Directing  jumps  at  Daddy  Green ; 
And  tliat  old  man,  to  watch  her  fly, 
Had  eyebrows  made  of  arches  high ; 
Till  homeward  he  likewise  did  hop, 
Oft  calling  on  himself  to  stop ! 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  417 


It  was  a  scene  when  man  and  maid, 
Abandoning  all  other  trade, 
And  careless  of  the  call  to  meals, 
Went  jumping  at  the  woman's  heels. 
By  dozens  they  were  counted  soon, 
Without  a  sound  to  tell  their  tune. 


XI 


Along  the  roads  they  came,  and  crossed 
The  fields,  and  o'er  the  hills  were  lost. 
And  in  the  evening  reappeared ; 
Then  short  like  hobbled  horses  reared, 
And  down  upon  the  grass  they  plumped : 
Alone  their  Jane  to  glory  jumped. 


XII 

At  morn  they  rose,  to  see  her  spring 
All  going  as  an  engine  thing ; 
And  lighter  than  the  gossamer 
She  led  the  bobbers  following  her, 
Past  old  acquaintances,  and  where 
They  made  the  stranger  stupid  stare. 


418  A  BEADING   OF   EARTH 


XIII 

When  turnips  were  a  filling  crop, 
In  scorn  they  jumped  a  butcher's  shop : 
Or,  spite  of  threats  to  flog  and  souse, 
They  jumped  for  shame  a  public-house  : 
And  much  their  legs  were  seized  with  rage 
If  passing  by  the  vicarage. 


XIV 

The  tightness  of  a  hempen  rope 
Their  bodies  got ;  but  laundry  soap 
Not  handsomer  can  rub  the  skin 
For  token  of  the  washed  within. 
Occasionally  coughers  cast 
A  leg  aloft  and  coughed  their  last. 


XV 


The  weaker  maids  and  some  old  men, 
Requiring  rafters  for  the  pen 
On  rainy  niglits,  were  those  who  fell. 
The  rest  were  quite  a  miracle, 
Refreshed  as  you  may  search  all  round 
On  Club-feast  days  and  cry,  Not  found  I 


A  READING   OF  EARTH  41£> 


XTI 


For  these  poor  innocents,  that  slept 

Against  the  sky,  soft  women  wept : 

For  never  did  they  any  theft ; 

'T  was  known  when  they  their  camping  left, 

And  jumped  the  cold  out  of  their  rags ; 

In  spirit  rich  as  money-bags. 


XVII 


They  jumped  the  question,  jumped  reply ; 
And  whether  to  insist,  deny, 
Eeprove,  persuade,  they  jumped  in  ranks 
Or  singly,  straight  the  arms  to  flanks, 
And  straight  the  legs,  with  just  a  knee 
For  bending  in  a  mild  degree. 


XVIII 

The  villagers  might  call  them  mad; 

An  endless  holiday  they  had, 

Of  pleasure  in  a  serious  work: 

They  taught  by  leaps  where  perils  lurk, 

And  with  the  lambkins  practised  sports 

For  'scaping  Satan's  pounds  and  quarts. 


420  A  BEADING   OF   EARTH 


XIX 

It  really  seemed  on  certain  days, 

When  they  bobbed  up  their  Lord  to  praise, 

And  bobbing  up  they  caught  the  glance 

Of  light,  our  secret  is  to  dance, 

And  hold  the  tongue  from  hindering  peace; 

To  dance  out  preacher  and  police. 


XX 


Those  flies  of  boys  disturbed  them  sore 
On  Sundays  and  when  dayliglit  wore: 
With  withies  cut  from  hedge  or  copse. 
They  treated  them  as  whipping-tops. 
And  flung  big  stones  with  cruel  aim; 
Yet  all  the  flock  jumped  on  the  same. 


XXI 

For  what  could  persecution  do 

To  worry  such  a  blessed  crew, 

On  wliom  it  was  as  wind  to  fire, 

Which  set  them  always  jumping  higher  ? 

The  parson  and  the  lawyer  tried, 

By  meek  persistency  defied. 


A  HEADING   OF   EAKTH  421 


XXII 

But  if  they  bore,  they  could  pursue 
As  wellj  and  this  the  Bishop  too; 
When  inner  warnings  proved  him  plain 
The  chase  for  Jump-to-glory  Jane. 
She  knew  it  by  his  being  sent 
To  bless  the  feasting  in  the  tent. 


XXIII 

Not  less  than  fifty  years  on  end, 
The  Squire  had  been  the  Bishop's  friend: 
And  his  poor  tenants,  harmless  ones, 
With  souls  to  save !  fed  not  on  buns, 
But  angry  meats :  she  took  her  place 
Outside  to  show  the  way  to  grace. 


XXIV 

In  apron  suit  the  Bishop  stood; 
The  crowding  people  kindly  viewed. 
A  gaunt  grey  woman  he  saw  rise 
On  air,  with  most  beseeching  eyes: 
And  evident  as  light  in  dark 
It  was,  she  set  to  him  for  mark. 


422  A   READING   OF   EARTH 


XXV 

Her  highest  leap  had  come :  with  ease 
She  jumped  to  reach  the  Bishop's  knees; 
Compressing  tight  her  arms  and  lips, 
She  sought  to  jump  the  Bishop's  hips: 
Her  aim  flew  at  his  apron-band, 
That  he  might  see  and  understand. 


XXVI 

The  mild  inquiry  of  his  gaze 

Was  altered  to  a  peaked  amaze, 

At  sight  of  thirty  in  ascent; 

To  gain  his  notice  clearly  bent: 

And  greatly  Jane  at  heart  was  vexed 

By  his  ploughed  look  of  mind  perplexed. 


XXVII 

In  jumps  that  said,  Beware  the  pit ! 
More  eloquent  than  speaking  it  — 
That  said,  Avoid  the  boiled,  the  roastj 
The  heated  nose  on  face  of  ghost. 
Which  comes  of  drinking:  up  and  o'er 
The  flesh  with  me!  did  Jane  implore. 


A  READING  OF  EARTH  423 


XXVIII 


She  jumped  him  high  as  huntsmen  go 
Across  the  gate;  she  jumped  him  low, 
To  coax  him  to  begin  and  feel 
His  infant  steps  returning,  peel 
His  mortal  pride,  exposing  fruit, 
And  off  with  hat  and  apron  suit. 


XXIX 

We  need  much  patience,  well  she  knew, 
And  out  and  out,  and  through  and  through, 
When  we  would  gentlefolk  address, 
However  we  may  seek  to  bless : 
At  times  they  hide  them  like  the  beasts 
From  sacred  beams;  and  mostly  priests. 


XXX 

He  gave  no  sign  of  making  bare, 
Nor  she  of  faintness  or  despair. 
Inflamed  with  hope  that  she  might  win, 
If  she  but  coaxed  him  to  begin, 
She  used  all  arts  for  making  fain; 
The  mother  with  her  babe  was  Jane. 


424:  A  READING   OF   EARTH 


XXXI 

Now  stamped  the  Squire,  and  knowing  not 

Her  business,  waved  her  from  the  spot. 

Encircled  by  the  men  of  might, 

The  head  of  Jane,  like  flickering  light, 

As  in  a  charger,  they  beheld 

Ere  she  was  from  the  park  expelled. 


XXXII 

Her  grief,  in  jumps  of  earthly  weight, 
Did  Jane  around  communicate : 
For  that  the  moment  when  began 
The  holy  but  mistaken  man, 
In  view  of  light,  to  take  his  lift, 
They  cut  him  from  her  charm  adrifti 


XXXIII 

And  he  was  lost:  a  banished  face 
For  ever  from  the  ways  of  grace. 
Unless  pinched  hard  by  dreams  in  fright. 
They  saw  the  Bishop's  wavering  sprite 
Within  her  look,  at  come  and  go, 
Long  after  he  had  caused  her  woe. 


A  READING   OF  EAETH  425 


XXXIV 


Her  greying  eyes  (until  she  sank 
At  Fredsham  on  the  wayside  bank, 
Like  cinder  heaps  that  whitened  lie 
From  coals  that  shot  the  flame  to  sky) 
Had  glassy  vacancies,  which  yearned 
For  one  in  memory  discerned. 


XXXV 

May  those  who  ply  the  tongue  that  cheats, 
And  those  who  rush  to  beer  and  meats, 
And  those  whose  mean  ambition  aims 
At  palaces  and  titled  names, 
Depart  in  such  a  cheerful  strain 
As  did  our  Jump-to-glory  Jane! 


XXXVI 

Her  end  was  beautiful :  one  sigh. 

She  jumped  a  foot  when  it  was  nigh. 

A  lily  in  a  linen  clout 

She  looked  when  they  had  laid  her  out. 

It  is  a  lily-light  she  bears 

For  England  up  the  ladder-stairs. 


ODES 


TO  THE  COMIC  SPIEIT 

Sword  of  Common  Sense!  — 

Our  surest  gift :  the  sacred  chain 

Of  man  to  man:  firm  earth  for  trust 

In  structures  vowed  to  permanence :  — 

Thou  guardian  issue  of  the  harvest  brain ! 

Implacable  perforce  of  just; 

With  that  good  treasure  in  defence, 

Which  is  our  gold  crushed  out  of  joy  and  pain 

Since  first  men  planted  foot  and  hand  was  king: 

Bright,  nimble  of  the  marrow-nerve 

To  wield  thy  double  edge,  retort 

Or  hold  the  deadlier  reserve, 

And  through  thy  victim's  weapon  sting: 

Thine  is  the  service,  thine  the  sport 

This  shifty  heart  of  ours  to  hunt 

Across  its  webs  and  round  the  many  a  ring 

Where  fox  it  is,  or  snake,  or  mingled  seeds 

Occasion  heats  to  shape,  or  the  poor  smoke 

Struck  from  a  puff-ball,  or  the  troughster's  grunt; 

Once  lion  of  our  desert's  trodden  weeds; 

And  but  for  thy  straight  finger  at  the  yoke, 


428  ODES 

Again  to  be  the  lordly  paw, 
Naming  his  appetites  his  needs, 
Behind  a  decorative  cloak: 
Thou,  of  the  highest,  the  unwritten  Law 
We  read  upon  that  building's  architrave 
In  the  mind's  firmament,  by  men  upraised 
With  sweat  of  blood  when  they  had  quitted  cave 
For  fellowship,  and  rearward  looked  amazed, 
Where  the  prime  motive  gapes  a  lurid  jaw. 
Thou,  soul  of  wakened  heads,  art  armed  to  warn, 
Kestrain,  lest  we  backslide  on  whence  we  sprang, 
Scarce  better  than  our  dwarf  beginning  shoot. 
Of  every  gathered  pearl  and  blossom  shorn ; 
Through  thee,  in  novel  wiles  to  win  disguise. 
Seen  are  the  pits  of  the  disruptor,  seen 
His  rebel  agitation  at  our  root : 
Thou  hast  him  out  of  hawking  eyes; 
Nor  ever  morning  of  the  clang 
Young  Echo  sped  on  hill  from  horn 
In  forest  blown  when  scent  was  keen 
Off  earthy  dews  besprinkling  blades 
Of  covert  grass  more  merrily  rang 
The  yelp  of  chase  down  alleys  green, 
Forth  of  the  headlong-pouring  glades, 
Over  the  dappled  fallows  wild  away. 
Than  thy  fine  unaccented  scorn 
At  siglit  of  man's  old  secret  brute, 
I  Devout  for  pasture  on  his  prey, 

Advancing,  yawning  to  devour; 
With  step  of  deer,  with  voice  of  flute, 
Haply  with  visage  of  the  lily  flower. 


ODES 

Let  the  cock  crow  and  ruddy  morn 

His  handmaiden  appear!     Youth  claims  his  hour. 

The  generously  ludicrous 

Espouses  it.     But  see  we  sons  of  day, 

On  whom  Life  leans  for  guidance  in  our  fight, 

Accept  the  throb  for  lord  of  us ; 

For  lord,  for  the  main  central  light 

That  gives  direction,  not  the  eclipse;  — 

Or  dost  thou  look  where  niggard  Age, 

Demanding  reverence  for  wrinkles,  whips 

A  tumbled  top  to  grind  a  wolf's  worn  tooth;  — 

Hoar  despot  on  our  final  stage. 

In  dotage  of  a  stunted  Youth ;  — 

Or  it  may  be  some  venerable  sage. 

Not  having  thee  awake  in  him,  compact 

Of  wisdom  else,  the  breast's  old  tempter  trips j 

Or  see  we  ceremonial  state. 

Robing  the  gilded  beast,  exact 

Abjection,  while  the  crackskull  name  of  Fate 

Is  used  to  stamp  and  hallow  printed  fact; 

A  cruel  corner  lengthens  up  thy  lips; 

These  are  thy  game  wherever  men  engage: 

These  and,  majestic  in  a  borrowed  shape, 

The  major  and  the  minor  potentate, 

Creative  of  their  various  ape ;  — 

The  tiptoe  mortals  triumphing  to  write 

Upon  a  perishable  page 

An  inch  above  their  fellows'  height;  — 

The  criers  of  foregone  wisdom,  who  impose 

Its  slough  on  live  conditions,  much  for  the  greed 

Of  our  first  hungry  figure  wide  agape;  — 


429 


430  ODB8 

Call  up  thy  hounds  of  laughter  to  their  run. 

These,  that  would  have  men  still  of  men  be  foes, 

Eternal  fox  to  prowl  and  pike  to  feed; 

Would  keep  our  life  the  whirly  pool 

Of  turbid  stuff  dishonouring  History; 

The  herd  the  drover's  herd,  the  fool  the  fool, 

Ourself  our  slavish  self's  infernal  sun ; 

These  are  the  children  of  the  heart  untaught 

By  thy  quick  founts  to  beat  abroad,  by  thee 

Untamed  to  tone  its  passions  under  thought, 

The  rich  humaneness  reading  in  tliy  fun. 

Of  them  a  world  of  coltish  heels  for  school. 

We  have;  a  world  with  driving  wrecks  bestrewn. 


'T  is  written  of  the  Gods  of  human  mould, 

Those  Nectar  Gods,  of  glorious  stature  hewn 

To  quicken  hymns,  that  they  did  hear  incensed, 

Satiric  comments  overbold, 

From  one  whose  part  was  by  decree 

The  jester's ;  but  they  boiled  to  feel  him  bite. 

Better  for  them  had  they  with  Reason  fenced 

Or  smiled  corrected!     They  in  tlie  great  Gods'  might, 

Their  prober  crushed,  as  fingers  flea. 

Crumbled  Olympus  when  the  sovereign  sire 

His  fatal  kick  to  Momus  gave,  albeit 

Men  could  beliold  the  sacred  Mount  aspire, 

The  Satirist  pass  by  on  limping  feet. 

Those  Gods  who  saw  the  ejected  laugh  alight 

Below,  had  then  their  last  of  airy  glee; 

They  in  the  cup  sought  Laughter's  drowned  sprite, 


ODES 


431 


Fed  to  dire  fatness  off  uncurbed  conceit. 

Eyes  under  saw  them  waddle  on  their  Mount, 

And  drew  them  down ;  to  flattest  earth  they  rolled. 

This  know  we  veritable.     0  Sage  of  Mirth! 

Can  it  be  true,  the  story  men  recount 

Of  the  fall'n  plight  of  the  great  Gods  on  earth? 

How  they  being  deathless,  though  of  human  mould, 

With  human  cravings,  undecaying  frames. 

Must  labour  for  subsistence;  are  a  band 

Whom  a  loose-cheeked,  wide-lipped  gay  cripple  leads 

At  haunts  of  holiday  on  summer  sand : 

And  lightly  he  will  hint  to  one  that  heeds, 

Names  in  pained  designation  of  them,  names 

Ensphered  on  blue  skies  and  on  black,  which  twirl 

Our  hearing  madly  from  our  seeing  dazed, 

Add  Bacchus  unto  both ;  and  he  entreats 

(His  baby  dimples  in  maternal  chaps 

Running  wild  labyrinths  of  line  and  curl) 

Compassion  for  his  masterful  Trombone, 

Whose  thunder  is  the  brass  of  how  he  blazed 

Of  old :  for  him  of  the  mountain-muscle  feats, 

Who  guts  a  drum  to  fetch  a  snappish  groan: 

For  his  fierce  bugler  horning  onset,  whom 

A  truncheon-battered  helmet  caps.  .  .  . 

The  creature  is  of  earnest  mien 

To  plead  a  sorrow  darker  than  the  tomb. 

His  Harp  and  Triangle,  in  tone  subdued. 

He  names;  they  are  a  ray  less  red  and  white; 

The  dawn-hued  libertine,  the  gibbous  prude. 

And,  if  we  recognize  his  Tambourine, 

He  asks ;  exhausted  names  her :  she  has  become 


432  ODES 

A  globe  in  cupolas;  the  blowsiest  queen 

Of  overflowing  dome  on  dome; 

Redundancy  contending  with  the  tight, 

Leaping  the  dam !    He  fondly  calls,  his  girl, 

The  buxom  tripper  with  the  goblet-smile. 

Refreshful.     0  but  now  his  brows  are  dun, 

Bunched  are  his  lips,  as  when  distilling  guile, 

To  drop  his  venomous:  the  Dame  of  dames. 

Flower  of  the  world,  that  honey  one. 

She  of  the  earthly  rose  in  the  sea-pearl, 

To  whom  the  world  ran  ocean  for  her  kiss; 

He  names  her,  as  a  worshipper  he  names, 

And  indicates  with  a  contemptuous  thumb. 

The  lady  meanwhile  lures  the  mob,  alike 

Ogles  the  bursters  of  the  horn  and  drum. 

Curtain  her  close !  her  open  arms 

Have  suckers  for  beholders :  she  to  this  ? 

For  that  she  could  not,  save  in  fury,  hear 

A  sharp  corrective  utterance  flick 

Her  idle  manners,  for  the  laugh  to  strike 

Beauty  so  breeding  beauty,  without  peer 

Above  the  snows,  among  the  flowers  ?     She  reaps 

This  mouldy  garner  of  the  fatal  kick  ? 

Gross  with  the  sacrifice  of  Circe-swarms, 

Astarte  of  vile  sweets  that  slay,  malign. 

From  Greek  resplendent  to  Phoenician  foul, 

The  trader  in  attractions  sinks,  all  brine 

To  thoughts  of  taste;  is  't  love?  —  bark,  dog!  hoot,  owll 

And  she  is  blushless :  ancient  worship  weeps. 

Suicide  Graces  dangle  down  the  charms 

Sprawling  like  gourds  on  outer  garden-heaps. 


ODES  435 

She  stands  in  her  unholy  oily  leer 

A  statue  losing  feature,  weather-sick 

Mid  draggled  creepers  of  twined  ivy  sere. 

The  curtain  cried  for  magnifies  to  see !  — 

We  cannot  quench  our  one  cornipting  glance: 

The  vision  of  the  rumour  will  not  flee. 

Doth  the  Boy  own  such  Mother?  —  shoot  his  dart 

To  bring  her,  countless  as  the  crested  deeps, 

Her  subjects  of  the  uncorrected  heart? 

False  is  that  vision,  shrieks  the  devotee; 

Incredible,  we  echo;  and  anew 

Like  a  far  growling  lightning-cloud  it  leaps. 

Low  humourist  this  leader  seems ;  perchance 

Pitched  from  his  University  career. 

Adept  at  classic  fooling.     Yet  of  mould 

Human  those  Gods  were:  deathless  too: 

On  high  they  not  as  meditatives  paced : 

Prodigiously  they  did  the  deeds  of  flesh : 

Descending,  they  would  touch  the  lowest  here : 

And  she,  that  lighted  form  of  blue  and  gold. 

Whom  the  seas  gave,  all  earth,  all  earth  embraced; 

Exulting  in  the  great  hauls  of  her  mesh; 

Desired  and  hated,  desperately  dear; 

Most  human  of  them  was.     No  more  pursue! 

Enough  that  the  black  story  can  be  told. 

It  preaches  to  the  eminently  placed: 

For  whom  disastrous  wreckage  is  nigh  due, 

Paints  omen.     Truly  they  our  throbber  had ; 

The  passions  plumping,  passions  playing  leech, 

Cunning  to  trick  us  for  the  day's  good  cheer. 

Our  uncorrected  human  heart  will  swell 


434  ODES 

To  notions  monstrous,  doings  mad 

As  billows  on  a  foam-lashed  beach ; 

Borne  on  the  tides  of  alternating  heats, 

Will  drug  the  brain,  will  doom  the  soul  as  well; 

Call  the  closed  mouth  of  that  harsh  final  Power 

To  speak  in  judgement :  Nemesis,  the  fell : 

Of  those  bright  Gods  assembled,  offspring  sour; 

The  last  surviving  on  the  upper  seats; 

As  with  men  Reason  when  their  hearts  rebel. 


Ah,  what  a  fruitless  breeder  is  this  heart, 

Full  of  the  mingled  seeds,  each  eating  each. 

Not  wiser  of  our  mark  than  at  the  start, 

It  surges  like  the  wrath-faced  father  Sea 

To  countering  winds;  a  force  blind-eyed, 

On  endless  rounds  of  aimless  reach; 

Emotion  for  the  source  of  pride. 

The  grounds  of  faith  in  fixity 

Above  our  flesh ;  its  cravings  urging  speech, 

Inspiring  prayer;  by  turns  a  lump 

Swung  on  a  time-piece,  and  by  turns 

A  quivering  energy  to  jump 

For  seats  angelical:  it  shrinks,  it  yearns. 

Loves,  loathes ;  is  flame  or  cinders ;  lastly  cloud 

Capping  a  sullen  crater:  and  mankind 

We  see  cloud-eay)ped,  an  army  of  the  dark, 

Because  of  thy  straight  leadership  declined; 

At  heels  of  this  or  that  delusive  spark: 

Now  when  the  multitudinous  races  press 

Elbow  to  elbow  hourly  more, 


ODES  435 

A  thickened  host;  when  now  we  hear  aloud 

Life  for  the  very  life  implore 

A  signal  of  a  visioned  mark; 

Light  of  the  mind,  the  mind's  discourse, 

The  rational  in  graciousness, 

Thee  by  acknowledgement  enthroned, 

To  tame  and  lead  that  blind-eyed  force 

In  harmony  of  harness  with  the  crowd, 

For  payment  of  their  dues ;  as  yet  disowned, 

Save  where  some  dutiful  lone  creature,  vowed 

To  holy  work,  deems  it  the  heart's  intent; 

Or  where  a  silken  circle  views  it  cowled. 

The  seeming  figure  of  concordance,  bent 

On  satiating  tyrant  lust 

Or  barren  fits  of  sentiment. 


Thou  wilt  not  have  our  paths  befouled 

By  simulation;  are  we  vile  to  view, 

The  heavens  shall  see  us  clean  of  our  own  dust, 

Beneath  thy  breezy  flitting  wing: 

They  make  their  mirror  upon  faces  true; 

And  where  they  win  reflection,  lucid  heave 

The  under  tides  of  this  hot  heart  seen  through. 

Beneficently  wilt  thou  clip 

All  oversteppings  of  the  plumed, 

The  puffed,  and  bid  the  masker  strip, 

And  into  the  crowned  windbag  thriist, 

Tearing  the  mortal  from  the  vital  thing, 

A  lightning  o'er  the  half-illumed. 

Who  to  base  brute-dominion  cleave. 


436  ODES 

Yet  mark  effects,  and  shun  the  flash, 

Till  their  drowsed  wits  a  beam  conceive, 

To  spy  a  wound  without  a  gash, 

The  magic  in  a  turn  of  wrist, 

And  how  are  wedded  heart  and  head  regaled 

When  Wit  o'er  Folly  blows  the  mort, 

And  their  high  note  of  union  spreads 

Wide  from  the  timely  word  with  conquest  charged  ; 

Victorious  laughter,  of  no  loud  report. 

If  heard;  derision  as  divinely  veiled 

As  terrible  Immortals  in  rose-mist, 

Given  to  the  vision  of  arrested  men  : 

Whereat  they  feel  within  them  weave 

Community  its  closer  threads, 

And  are  to  our  fraternal  state  enlarged ; 

Like  warm  fresh  blood  is  their  enlivened  ken » 

They  learn  that  thou  art  not  of  alien  sort, 

Speaking  the  tongue  by  vipers  hissed, 

Or  of  the  frosty  heights  unsealed. 

Or  of  the  vain  who  simple  speech  distort. 

Or  of  the  vapours  pointing  on  to  nought 

Along  cold  skies  ;  though  sharp  and  high  thy  pitch: 

As  wlien  sole  homeward  the  belated  treads, 

And  hears  aloft  a  clamour  wailed, 

That  once  had  seemed  the  broomstick  witch 

Horridly  violating  cloud  for  drought : 

He  from  the  rub  of  minds  dispersing  fears, 

Hears  migrants  marshalling  their  midnight  train; 

Homeliest  order  in  black  sky  appears. 

Not  less  than  in  tlie  lighted  village  steads. 

So  do  those  half-illumed  wax  clear  to  share 


ODES  437 

A  cry  that  is  our  common  voice  ;  the  note 

Of  fellowship  upon  a  loftier  plane, 

Above  embattled  castle-wall  and  moat ; 

And  toning  drops  as  from  pure  heaven  it  sheds. 

So  thou  for  washing  a  phantasmal  air, 

For  thy  sweet  singing  keynote  of  the  wise, 

Laughter — the  joy  of  Reason  seeing  fade 

Obstruction  into  Earth's  renewing  beds, 

Beneath  the  stroke  of  her  good  servant's  blade  — 

Thenceforth  art  as  their  earth-star  hailed ; 

Gain  of  the  years,  conjunction's  prize. 

The  greater  heart  in  thy  appeal  to  heads, 

They  see,  thou  Captain  of  our  civil  Fort  I 

By  more  elusive  savages  assailed 

On  each  ascending  stage ;  untired 

Both  inner  foe  and  outer  to  cut  short. 

And  blow  to  chaff  pretenders  void  of  grist : 

Showing  old  tiger's  claws,  old  crocodile's 

Yard-grin  of  eager  grinders,  slim  to  sight. 

Like  forms  in  running  water,  oft  when  smiles, 

When  pearly  tears,  when  fluent  lips  delight : 

But  never  with  the  slayer's  malice  fired : 

As  little  as  informs  an  infant's  fist 

Clenched  at  the  sneeze !     Thou  would'st  but  have  us  be 

Good  sons  of  mother  soil,  whereby  to  grow 

Branching  on  fairer  skies,  one  stately  tree ; 

Broad  of  the  tilth  for  flowering  at  the  Court : 

Which  is  the  tree  bound  fast  to  wave  its  tress ; 

Of  strength  controlled  sheer  beauty  to  bestow. 

Ambrosial  heights  of  possible  acquist, 

Where  souls  of  men  with  soul  of  man  consort, 


438  ODES 

And  all  look  higher  to  new  loveliness 

Begotten  of  the  look  :  tliy  mark  is  there ; 

While  on  our  temporal  ground  alive, 

Rightly  though  fearfully  thou  wieldest  sword, 

Of  finer  temper  now  a  numbered  learn 

That  they  resisting  thee  themselves  resist ; 

And  not  thy  bigger  joy  to  smite  and  drive, 

Prompt  the  dense  herd  to  butt,  and  set  the  snare 

Witching  them  into  pitfalls  for  hoarse  shouts. 

More  now,  and  hourly  more,  and  of  the  Lord 

Thou  lead'st  to,  doth  this  rebel  heart  discern, 

When  pinched  ascetic  and  red  sensualist 

Alternately  recurrent  freeze  or  burn, 

And  of  its  old  religions  it  has  doubts. 

It  fears  thee  less  when  thou  hast  shown  it  bare ; 

Less  hates,  part  understands,  nor  much  resents, 

When  the  prized  objects  it  has  raised  for  prayer, 

For  fitful  prayer  ;  —  repentance  dreading  fire. 

Impelled  by  aches  ;  the  blindness  which  repents 

Like  the  poor  trampled  worm  that  writhes  in  mire  j  — 

Are  sounded  by  thee,  and  thou  darest  probe 

Old  Institutions  and  Establishments, 

Once  fortresses  against  the  floods  of  sin, 

YoT  what  their  worth  ;  and  questioningly  prod 

For  why  they  stand  upon  a  racing  globe, 

Impeding  blocks,  less  useful  than  the  clod  ; 

Their  angel  out  of  them,  a  demon  in. 

This  half-enlightened  heart,  still  doomed  to  fret. 
To  hurl  at  vanities,  to  drift  in  shame 
Of  gain  or  loss,  bewailing  the  sure  rod, 


ODES  439 

Shall  of  predestination  wed  thee  yet. 

Something  it  gathers  of  what  things  should  drop 

At  entrance  on  new  times ;  of  how  thrice  broad 

The  world  of  minds  communicative ;  how 

A  straggling  Nature  classed  in  school,  and  scored 

With  stripes  admonishing,  may  yield  to  plough 

Fruitfullest  furrows,  nor  for  waxing  tame 

Be  feeble  on  an  Earth  whose  gentler  crop 

Is  its  most  living,  in  the  mind  that  steers, 

By  Reason  led,  her  way  of  tree  and  flame, 

Beyond  the  genuflexions  and  the  tears ; 

Upon  an  Earth  that  cannot  stop, 

Where  upward  is  the  visible  aim, 

And  ever  we  espy  the  greater  God, 

For  simple  pointing  at  a  good  adored : 

Proof  of  the  closer  neighbourhood.     Head  on, 

Sword  of  the  many,  light  of  the  few  !  untwist 

Or  cut  our  tangles  till  fair  space  is  won 

Beyond  a  briared  wood  of  austere  brow, 

Relieved  of  discord  by  thy  timely  word 

At  intervals  refreshing  life  :  for  thou 

Art  verily  Keeper  of  the  Muse's  Key ; 

Thyself  no  vacant  melodist; 

On  lower  land  elective  even  as  she ; 

Holding,  as  she,  all  dissonance  abhorred; 

Advising  to  her  measured  steps  in  flow ; 

And  teaching  how  for  being  subjected  free 

Past  thought  of  freedom  we  may  come  to  know 

The  music  of  the  meaning  of  Accord. 


YOUTH  IN  MEMORY 

Days,  when  the  ball  of  our  vision 
Had  eagles  that  flew  unabashed  to  sun ; 
When  the  grasp  on  the  bow  was  decision, 
And  arrow  and  hand  and  eye  were  one ; 
When  the  Pleasures,  like  waves  to  a  swimmer, 
Came  heaving  for  rapture  ahead !  — 
Invoke  them,  they  dwindle,  they  glimmer 
As  lights  over  mounds  of  the  dead. 

Behold  the  winged  Olympus,  off  the  mead, 

With  thunder  of  wide  pinions,  lightning  speed. 

Wafting  the  shepherd-boy  through  ether  clear, 

To  bear  the  golden  nectar-cup. 

So  flies  desire  at  view  of  its  delight, 

When  the  young  heart  is  tiptoe  perched  on  sight. 

We  meanwhile  who  in  hues  of  the  sick  year, 

The  Spring-time  paint  to  prick  us  for  our  lost. 

Mount  but  the  fatal  half  way  up. 

Whereon  shut  eyes  !     This  is  decreed, 

For  Age  that  would  to  youthful  heavens  ascend, 

By  passion  for  the  arms'  possession  tossed, 


ODES 


441 


It  falls  the  way  of  sighs  and  hath  their  end ; 
A  spark  gone  out  to  more  sepulchral  night. 
Good  if  the  arrowy  eagle  of  the  height, 
Be  then  the  little  bird  that  hops  to  feed. 

Lame  falls  the  cry  to  kindle  days 

Of  radiant  orb  and  daring  gaze. 

It  does  but  clank  our  mortal  chain. 

For  Earth  reads  through  her  felon  old, 

The  many-numbered  of  her  fold, 

Who  forward  tottering  backward  strain, 

And  would  be  thieves  of  treasure  spent, 

With  their  grey  season  soured. 

She  could  write  out  their  history  in  their  thirst 

To  have  again  the  much  devoured, 

And  be  the  bud  at  burst ; 

In  honey  fancy  join  the  flow, 

Where  Youth  swims  on  as  once  they  wen^ 

All  choiric  for  spontaneous  glee 

Of  active  eager  lungs  and  thews ; 

They  now  bared  roots  beside  the  river  bent  j 

Whose  privilege  themselves  to  see ; 

Their  place  in  yonder  tideway  know; 

The  current  glass  peruse ; 

The  depths  intently  sound ; 

And  sapped  by  each  returning  flood, 

Accept  for  monitory  nourishment, 

Those  worn  roped  features  under  crust  of  mud, 

Keflected  in  the  silvery  smooth  around  : 

Not  less  the  branching  and  high  singing  tree, 

A  home  of  nests,  a  landmark  and  a  tent, 


442  ODES 

Until  their  hour  for  losing  hold  on  ground. 
Even  such  good  harvest  of  the  things  that  flee, 
Earth  offers  her  subjected,  and  they  choose 
Rather  of  Bacchic  Youth  one  beam  to  drink, 
And  warm  slow  marrow  with  the  sensual  wink. 
So  block  they  at  her  source  the  Mother  of  the  Muse. 

Who  cheerfully  the  little  bird  becomes, 

Without  a  fall,  and  pipes  for  peck  at  crumbs, 

May  have  her  dolings  to  the  lightest  touch  j 

As  where  some  cripple  muses  by  his  crutch, 

Unwitting  that  the  spirit  in  him  sings : 

<  When  I  had  legs,  then  had  I  wings, 

As  good  as  any  born  of  eggs, 

To  feed  on  all  aerial  things, 

When  I  had  legs ! ' 

And  if  not  to  embrace  he  sighs. 

She  gives  him  breath  of  Youth  awhile, 

Perspective  of  a  breezy  mile. 

Companionable  hedgeways,  lifting  skies; 

Scenes  where  his  nested  dreams  upon  their  hoard 

Brooded,  or  up  to  empyrean  soared  : 

Enough  to  link  him  with  a  dotted  line. 

But  cravings  for  an  eagle's  flight, 

To  top  white  peaks  and  serve  wild  wine 

Among  the  rosy  undecayed, 

Bring  only  flash  of  shade 

From  her  full  throbbing  breast  of  day  in  night. 

By  what  they  crave  are  they  betrayed : 

And  cavernous  is  that  young  dragon's  jaw, 

Crimson  for  all  the  fiery  reptile  saw 


443 


ODES 

In  time  now  coveted,  for  teeth  to  flay, 

Once  more  consume,  were  Life  recurrent  May. 

They  to  their  moment  of  drawn  breath, 

Which  is  the  life  that  makes  the  death. 

The  death  that  makes  ethereal  life  would  bind : 

The  death  that  breeds  the  spectre  do  they  find. 

Darkness  is  wedded  and  the  waste  regrets 

Beating  as  dead  leaves  on  a  fitful  gust, 

By  souls  no  longer  dowered  to  climb 

Beneath  their  pack  of  dust, 

Whom  envy  of  a  lustrous  prime, 

Eclipsed  while  yet  invoked,  besets, 

And  dooms  to  sink  and  water  sable  flowers, 

That  never  gladdened  eye  or  loaded  bee. 

Strain  we  the  arms  for  Memory's  hours, 

We  are  the  seized  Persephone. 


Responsive  never  to  the  soft  desire 

For  one  prized  tune  is  this  our  chord  of  life. 

'T  is  clipped  to  deadness  with  a  wanton  knife, 

In  wishes  that  for  ecstasies  aspire. 

Yet  have  we  glad  companionship  of  Youth, 

Elysian  meadows  for  the  mind, 

Dare  we  to  face  deeds  done,  and  in  our  tomb 

Filled  with  the  parti-coloured  bloom 

Of  loved  and  hated,  grasp  all  human  truth 

Sowed  by  us  down  the  mazy  paths  behind. 

To  feel  that  heaven  must  we  that  hell  sound  through: 

Whence  comes  a  line  of  continuity. 

That  brings  our  middle  station  into  view. 

Between  those  poles ;  a  novel  Earth  we  see. 


444  ODES 

In  likeness  of  us,  made  of  banned  and  blest ; 

The  sower's  bed,  but  not  the  reaper's  rest : 

An  Earth  alive  with  meanings,  wherein  meet 

Buried,  and  breathing,  and  to  be. 

Then  of  the  junction  of  the  three, 

Even  as  a  heart  in  brain,  full  sweet 

May  sense  of  soul,  the  sura  of  music,  beat. 


Only  the  soul  can  walk  the  dusty  track 

Where  hangs  our  flowering  under  vapours  black. 

And  bear  to  see  how  these  pervade,  obscure, 

Quench  recollection  of  a  spacious  pure. 

They  take  phantasmal  forms,  divide,  convolve, 

Hard  at  each  other  point  and  gape. 

Horrible  ghosts  !  in  agony  dissolve. 

To  reappear  with  one  they  drape 

For  criminal,  and.  Father !  shrieking  name, 

Who  such  distorted  issue  did  beget. 

Accept  them,  them  and  him,  though  hiss  thy  sweat 

Off  brow  on  breast,  whose  furnace  flame 

Has  eaten,  and  old  Self  consumes. 

Out  of  the  purification  will  they  leap, 

Thee  renovating  while  new  light  illumes 

The  dusky  web  of  evil,  known  as  pain, 

That  heavily  up  healthward  mounts  the  steep; 

Our  fleshly  road  to  beacon-fire  of  brain: 

Midway  the  tameless  oceanic  brute 

IJelow,  wliosp  heave  is  topped  with  foam  for  fruit, 

And  tlie  fair  heaven  reflecting  inner  peace 

On  righteous  warfare,  that  asks  not  to  cease. 


J 


ODES  445 

Forth  of  such  passage  through  black  fire  we  win 

Clear  hearing  of  the  simple  lute, 

Whereon,  and  not  on  other,  Memory  plays 

For  them  who  can  in  quietness  receive 

Her  restorative  airs :  a  ditty  thin 

As  note  of  hedgerow  bird  in  ear  of  eve, 

Or  wave  at  ebb,  the  shallow  catching  rays 

On  a  transparent  sheet,  where  curves  a  glass 

To  truer  heavens  than  when  the  breaker  neighs 

Loud  at  the  plunge  for  bubbly  wreck  in  roar. 

Solidity  and  bulk  and  martial  brass. 

Once  tyrants  of  the  senses,  faintly  score 

A  mark  on  pebbled  sand  or  fluid  slime, 

While  present  in  the  spirit,  vital  there, 

Are  things  that  seemed  the  phantoms  of  their  time; 

Eternal  as  the  recurrent  cloud,  as  air 

Imperative,  refreshful  as  dawn-dew. 

Some  evanescent  hand  on  vapour  scrawled 

Historic  of  the  soul,  and  heats  anew 

Its  coloured  lines  where  deeds  of  flesh  stand  bald. 

True  of  the  man,  and  of  mankind  't  is  true. 

Did  we  stout  battle  with  the  Shade,  Despair, 

Our  cowardice,  it  blooms  ;  or  haply  warred 

Against  the  primal  beast  in  us,  and  flung ; 

Or  cleaving  mists  of  Sorrow,  left  it  starred 

Above  self-pity  slain :  or  it  was  Prayer 

First  taken  for  Life's  cleanser ;  or  the  tongue 

Spake  for  the  world  against  this  heart ;  or  rings 

Old  laughter,  from  the  founts  of  wisdom  sprung; 

Or  clap  of  wing  of  joy,  that  was  a  throb 

From  breast  of  Earth,  and  did  no  creature  rob; 


446  ODES 

These  quickening  live.    But  deepest  at  her  springs, 

Most  filial,  is  an  eye  to  love  her  young. 

And  had  we  it,  still  see  with  it,  alive 

Is  our  lost  garden,  flower,  bird  and  hive. 

Blood  of  her  blood,  aim  of  her  aim,  are  then 

The  green-robed  and  grey-crested  sons  of  men : 

She  tributary  to  her  aged  restores 

The  living  in  the  dead ;  she  will  inspire 

Faith  homelier  than  on  the  Yonder  shores, 

Abhorring  these  as  mire, 

Uncertain  steps,  in  dimness  gropes. 

With  mortal  tremours  pricking  hopes, 

And,  by  the  final  Bacchic  of  the  lusts 

Propelled,  the  Bacchic  of  the  spirit  trusts : 

A  fervour  drunk  from  mystic  hierophants  ; 

Not  utterly  misled,  though  blindly  led, 

Led  round  fermenting  eddies.     Faith  she  plants 

In  her  own  firmness  as  our  midway  road  : 

Which  rightly  Youth  has  read,  though  blindly  read ; 

Her  essence  reading  in  her  toothsome  goad; 

Spur  of  bright  dreams  experience  disenchants. 

But  love  we  well  the  young,  her  road  midway 

The  darknesses  runs  consecrated  clay. 

Despite  our  feeble  hold  on  this  green  home. 

And  the  vast  outer  strangeness  void  of  dome, 

Shall  we  be  with  them,  of  them,  taught  to  feel, 

Up  to  the  moment  of  our  prostrate  fall, 

The  life  they  deem  voluptuously  real, 

Is  more  than  empty  echo  of  a  call. 

Or  shadow  of  a  shade,  or  swing  of  tides ; 

As  brooding  upon  age,  when  veins  congeal. 


ODES  447 

Grey  palsy  nods  to  think.     With  us  for  guides, 
Another  step  above  the  animal, 
To  views  in  Alpine  thought  are  they  helped  on. 
Good  if  so  far  we  live  in  them  when  gone  I 

And  there  the  arrowy  eagle  of  the  height, 

Becomes  the  little  bird  that  hops  to  feed. 

Glad  of  a  crumb,  for  tempered  appetite 

To  make  it  wholesome  blood  and  fruitful  seed. 

Then  Memory  strikes  on  no  slack  string, 

Nor  sectional  will  varied  Life  appear : 

Perforce  of  soul  discerned  in  mind,  we  hear 

Earth  with  her  Onward  chime,  with  Winter  Spring. 

And  ours  the  mellow  note,  while  sharing  joys 

No  more  subjecting  mortals  who  have  learnt 

To  build  for  happiness  on  equipoise. 

The  Pleasures  read  in  sparks  of  substance  burnt  j 

Know  in  our  seasons  an  integral  wheel. 

That  rolls  us  to  a  mark  may  yet  be  willed. 

This,  the  truistic  rubbish  under  heel 

Of  all  the  world,  we  peck  at  and  are  lilled. 


VERSES 
PENETRATION  AND  TRUST 


cSleek  as  a  lizard  at  round  of  a  stone, 
The  look  of  her  heart  slipped  out  and  in. 
Sweet  on  her  lord  her  soft  eyes  shone, 
As  innocents  clear  of  a  shade  of  sin. 

II 

He  laid  a  finger  under  her  chin, 
His  arm  for  her  girdle  at  waist  was  thrown : 
Now,  what  will  happen  and  who  will  win, 
With  me  in  the  fight  and  my  lady  lone  ? 

Ill 

He  clasped  her,  clasping  a  shape  of  stone ; 
Was  fire  on  her  eyes  till  they  let  him  in. 
Her  breast  to  a  God  of  the  daybeams  shone, 
And  never  a  corner  for  serpent  sin. 

IV 

Tranced  she  stood,  with  a  chattering  chin ; 
Her  shrunken  form  at  his  feet  was  thrown : 
At  home  to  the  death  my  lord  shall  win. 
When  it  is  no  tyrant  who  leaves  me  lone  I 


NIGHT  OF  FROST  IN  MAY 

With  splendour  of  a  silver  day, 

A  frosted  night  had  opened  May : 

And  on  that  plumed  and  armoured  night, 

As  one  close  temple  hove  our  wood, 

Its  border  leafage  virgin  white. 

Remote  down  air  an  owl  hallooed. 

The  black  twig  dropped  without  a  twirl ; 

The  bud  in  jewelled  grasp  was  nipped ; 

The  brown  leaf  cracked  a  scorching  curl  j 

A  crystal  off  the  green  leaf  slipped. 

Across  the  tracks  of  rimy  tan, 

Some  busy  thread  at  whiles  would  shoot  ; 

A  limping  minnow-rillet  ran, 

To  hang  upon  an  icy  foot. 

In  this  shrill  hush  of  quietude, 
The  ear  conceived  a  severing  cry. 
Almost  it  let  the  sound  elude. 
When  chuckles  three,  a  warble  shy, 
From  hazels  of  the  garden  came, 
Near  by  the  crimson-windowed  farm. 
They  laid  the  trance  on  breath  and  frame, 
A  prelude  of  tlie  passion-charm. 


VEKSES  461 

Then  soon  was  heard,  not  sooner  heard 
Than  answered,  doubled,  trebled,  more, 
Voice  of  an  Eden  in  the  bird 
Renewing  with  his  pipe  of  four 
The  sob  :  a  troubled  Eden,  rich 
In  throb  of  heart :  unnumbered  throats 
Flung  upward  at  a  fountain's  pitch, 
The  fervour  of  the  four  long  notes, 
That  on  the  fountain's  pool  subside, 
Exult  and  ruffle  and  upspring  : 
Endless  the  crossing  multiplied 
Of  silver  and  of  golden  string. 
There  chimed  a  bubbled  underbrew 
With  witch-wild  spray  of  vocal  dew. 

It  seemed  a  single  harper  swept 

Our  wild  wood's  inner  chords  and  waked 

A  spirit  that  for  yearning  ached 

Ere  men  desired  and  joyed  or  wept. 

Or  now  a  legion  ravishing 

Musician  rivals  did  unite 

In  love  of  sweetness  high  to  sing 

The  subtle  song  that  rivals  light ; 

Erom  breast  of  earth  to  breast  of  sky  : 

And  they  were  secret,  they  were  nigh : 

A  hand  the  magic  might  disperse  ; 

The  magic  swung  my  universe. 

Yet  sharpened  breath  forbade  to  dream, 
Where  all  was  visionary  gleam  ; 
Where  Seasons,  as  with  cymbals,  clashed ; 
And  feelings,  passing  joy  and  woe. 


452  VERSES 

Churned,  gurgled,  spouted,  interflashed, 

Nor  either  was  the  one  we  know  : 

Nor  pregnant  of  the  heart  contained 

In  us  were  they,  that  griefless  plained, 

That  plaining  soared  ;  and  through  the  heart 

Struck  to  one  note  the  wide  apart :  — 

A  passion  surgent  from  despair; 

A  paining  bliss  in  fervid  cold ; 

Off  the  last  vital  edge  of  air, 

Leap  heavenward  of  the  lofty-souled, 

For  rapture  of  a  wine  of  tears  ; 

As  had  a  star  among  the  spheres 

Caught  up  our  earth  to  some  mid-height 

Of  double  life  to  ear  and  sight. 

She  giving  voice  to  thought  that  shines 

Keen-brilliant  of  her  deepest  mines ; 

While  steely  drips  the  rillet  clinked. 

And  hoar  with  crust  the  cowslip  swelled. 

Then  was  the  lyre  of  earth  beheld, 
Then  heard  by  me:  it  holds  me  linkedj 
Across  the  years  to  dead-ebb  shores 
I  stand  on,  my  blood  —  thrill  restores. 
But  would  I  conjure  into  me 
Those  issue  notes,  I  must  review 
What  serious  breath  the  woodland  drew  j 
The  low  throb  of  expectancy ; 
How  the  white  mother-muteness  pressed 
On  leaf  and  meadow-herb ;  how  shook. 
Nigh  speech  of  mouth,  the  sparkle-crest 
Seen  spinning  on  the  bracken-crook. 


THE  TEACHING  OF  THE  NUDE 


A  Satyr  spied  a  Goddess  in  her  bath, 

Unseen  of  her  attendant  nymphs ;  none  knew. 

Forthwith  the  creature  to  his  fellows  drew, 

And  looking  backward  on  the  curtained  path, 

He  strove  to  tell ;  he  could  but  heave  a  breast 

Too  full,  and  point  to  mouth,  with  failing  leers  : 

Vainly  he  danced  for  speech,  he  giggled  tears, 

Made  as  if  torn  in  two,  as  if  tight  pressed, 

As  if  cast  prone;  then  fetching  whimpered  tunes 

For  words,  flung  heel  and  set  his  hairy  flight 

Through  forest-hollows,  over  rocky  height. 

The  green  leaves  buried  him  three  rounds  of  moons. 

A  senatorial  Satyr  named  what  herb 

Had  hurried  him  outrunning  reason's  curb. 

II 

*T  is  told  how  when  that  hieaway  unchecked, 
To  dell  returned,  he  seemed  of  tempered  mood : 
Even  as  the  valley  of  the  torrent  rude. 
The  torrent  now  a  brook,  the  valley  wrecked. 
In  him,  to  hale  him  high  or  hurl  aheap, 
Goddess  and  Goatfoot  hourly  wrestled  sore ; 
Hourly  the  immortal  prevailing  more  : 


454  VERSES 

Till  one  hot  noon  saw  Meliboeus  peep 

From  thicket-sprays  to  where  his  full-blown  dame, 

In  circle  by  the  lusty  friskers  gripped, 

Laughed   the  showered  rose-leaves  while  her  limbs  were 

stripped. 
She  beckoned  to  our  Satyr,  and  he  came. 
Then  twirled  she  mounds  of  ripeness,  wreath  of  arms. 
His  hoof  kicked  up  the  clothing  for  such  charms. 


BREATH  OF  THE  BRIAR 


O  BRIAR-SCENTS,  On  yon  wet  wing 
Of  warm  South-west  wind  brushing  by, 
You  mind  me  of  the  sweetest  thing 
That  ever  mingled  frank  and  shy : 
When  she  and  I,  by  love  enticed, 
Beneath  the  orchard-apples  met, 
In  equal  halves  a  ripe  one  sliced. 
And  smelt  the  juices  ere  we  ate. 

II 

That  apple  of  the  briar-scent. 
Among  our  lost  in  Britain  now. 
Was  green  of  rind,  and  redolent 
Of  sweetness  as  a  milking  cow. 
The  briar  gives  it  back,  well  nigh 
The  damsel  with  her  teeth  on  it; 
Her  twinkle  between  frank  and  shy, 
My  thirst  to  bite  where  she  had  bit. 


EMPEDOCLES 


He  leaped.     With  none  to  hinder, 
Of  Aetna's  fiery  scoriae 
In  the  next  vomit-shower,  made  he 

A  more  peculiar  cinder. 
And  this  great  Doctor,  can  it  be, 
He  left  no  saner  recipe 
For  men  at  issue  with  despair  ? 
Admiring,  even  his  poet  owns, 
While  noting  his  fine  lyric  tones, 
The  last  of  him  was  heels  in  air! 


II 

Comes  Reverence,  her  features 
Amazed  to  see  high  Wisdom  hear, 
W^ith  glimmer  of  a  faunish  leer, 

One  mock  her  pride  of  creatures. 
Shall  such  sad  incident  degrade 
A  stature  casting  sunniest  shade  ? 
0  Keverence  !  let  Reason  swim; 
Each  life  its  critic  deed  reveals  ; 
And  him  reads  Reason  at  his  heels. 
If  heels  in  air  the  last  of  him  ! 


TO  COLONEL  CHARLES 
(Dying  General  C.B.B.) 


An  English  heart,  my  commandant, 
A  soldier's  eye  you  have,  awake 
To  right  and  left ;  with  looks  askant 
On  bulwarks  not  of  adamant, 
Where  white  our  Channel  waters  break. 


n 

Where  Grisnez  winks  at  Dungeness 
Across  the  ruffled  strip  of  salt. 
You  look,  and  like  the  prospect  less. 
On  men  and  guns  would  you  lay  stress, 
To  bid  the  Island's  foemen  halt. 


Ill 

While  loud  the  Year  is  raising  cry 
At  birth  to  know  if  it  must  bear 
In  history  the  bloody  dye. 
An  English  heart,  a  soldier's  eye, 
For  the  old  country  first  will  care. 


458  VERSES 


IV 


And  how  stands  she,  artillerist, 

Among  the  vapours  waxing  dense. 

With  cannon  charged  ?     'T  is  hist  I  and  hist! 

And  now  she  screws  a  gouty  fist, 

And  now  she  counts  to  clutch  her  pence. 


With  shudders  chill  as  aconite, 
The  couchant  chewer  of  the  cud 
Will  start  at  times  in  pussy  fright 
Before  the  dogs,  when  reads  her  sprite 
The  streaks  predicting  streams  of  blood. 

VI 

She  thinks  they  may  mean  something ;  thinks 
They  may  mean  nothing  :  haply  both. 
Where  darkness  all  her  daylight  drinks, 
She  fain  would  find  a  leader  lynx. 
Not  too  much  taxing  mental  sloth. 


VII 

Cleft  like  the  fated  house  in  twain. 
One  half  is,  Arm  !  and  one,  Retrench! 
Gambetta's  word  on  dull  MacMahon : 
'The  cow  that  sees  a  passing  train :  * 
So  spies  she  Russian,  German,  French. 


VEESES  459 


VIII 

She  ?  no,  her  weakness :  she  unbraced 
Among  those  athletes  fronting  storms  I 
The  muscles  less  of  steel  than  paste, 
Why,  they  of  nature  feel  distaste 
For  flash,  much  more  for  push,  of  arms. 


iz 

The  poet  sings,  and  well  know  we, 
That  'iron  draws  men  after  it.' 
But  towering  wealth  may  seem  the  tree 
Which  bears  the  fruit  Lidemniti/, 
And  draw  as  fast  as  battle's  fit, 


If  feeble  be  the  hand  on  guard, 

Alas,  alas  !    And  nations  are 

Still  the  mad  forces,  though  the  scarred. 

Should  they  once  deem  our  emblem  Pard 

Wagger  of  tail  for  all  save  war ;  — 


zi 

Mechanically  screwed  to  flail 

His  flanks  by  Presses  conjuring  fear;  — 

A  money-bag  with  head  and  tail ;  — 

Too  late  may  valour  then  avail  1 

As  you  beheld,  my  cannonier, 


4@0  VZZiJLS 

XI3 


:,-.  1557. 


ENGLAXD  BEFOEE  THE  STORM 


The  day  that  is  the  night  of  days, 
With  cannon-fire  for  son  ablaze, 
We  spy  from  any  billow's  lift ; 
And  England  still  this  tidal  drift ! 
Would  she  to  sainted  forethought  vow 
A  space  before  the  thunders  flood, 
That  martyr  of  its  hour  might  now 
Spare  her  the  tears  of  blood. 


ri 

Asleep  upon  her  ancient  deeds, 
She  hugs  the  vision  plethora  breeds, 
And  counts  her  manifold  increase 
Of  treasure  in  the  fruits  of  peace. 
What  curse  on  earth's  improvident, 
When  the  dread  trumpet  shatters  rest, 
Is  wreaked;  she  knows,  yet  smiles  content 
As  cradle  rocked  from  breasi. 


402  YEKSES 


ni 


She,  impious  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 
The  valour  of  her  offspring  boasts, 
Mindless  that  now  on  land  and  main 
His  heeded  prayer  is  active  brain. 
No  more  great  heart  may  guard  the  home, 
Save  eyed  and  armed  and  skilled  to  cleave 
Yon  swallower  wave  with  shroud  of  foam, 
We  see  not  distant  heave. 

IT 

They  stand  to  be  her  sacrifice, 
The  sons  this  mother  flings  like  dice, 
To  face  the  odds  and  brave  the  Fates ; 
As  in  those  days  of  starry  dates, 
When  cannon  cannon's  counterblast 
Awakened,  muzzle  muzzle  bowled. 
And  high  in  swathe  of  smoke  the  mast 
Its  fighting  rag  outrolled. 


TARDY  SPRING 

Now  the  North  wind  ceases, 
The  warm  South-west  awakes  j 
Swift  fly  the  fleeces, 
Thick  the  blossom-flakes. 

Now  hill  to  hill  has  made  the  stride, 
And  distance  waves  the  without  end : 
Now  in  the  breast  a  door  flings  wide ; 
Our  farthest  smiles,  our  next  is  friend. 
And  song  of  England's  rush  of  flowers 
Is  this  full  breeze  with  mellow  stops, 
That  spins  the  lark  for  shine,  for  showers ; 
He  drinks  his  hurried  flight,  and  drops. 
The  stir  in  memory  seem  these  things, 
Which  out  of  moistened  turf  and  clay, 
Astrain  for  light  push  patient  rings, 
Or  leap  to  find  the  waterway. 
'T  is  equal  to  a  wonder  done, 
Whatever  simple  lives  renew 
Their  tricks  beneath  the  father  sun, 
As  though  they  caught  a  broken  clue : 
So  hard  was  earth  an  eyewink  back ; 
But  now  the  common  life  has  come, 
The  blotting  cloud  a  dappled  pack. 
The  grasses  one  vast  underhum. 


464  VERSES 

A  City  clothed  in  snow  and  soot, 

With  lamps  for  day  iu  ghostly  rows, 

Breaks  to  the  scene  of  hosts  afoot, 

The  river  that  reflective  flows  : 

And  there  did  fog  down  crypts  of  street 

Play  spectre  upon  eye  and  mouth  :  — 

Their  faces  are  a  glass  to  greet 

This  magic  of  the  whirl  for  South. 

A  burly  joy  each  creature  swells 

"With  sound  of  its  own  hungry  quest ; 

Earth  has  to  fill  her  empty  wells, 

And  speed  the  service  of  the  nest ; 

The  phantom  of  the  snow-wreath  melt, 

That  haunts  the  farmer's  look  abroad, 

Who  sees  what  tomb  a  white  night  built, 

Where  flocks  now  bleat  and  sprouts  the  clod. 

For  iron  Winter  held  her  firm  ; 

Across  her  sky  he  laid  his  hand  ; 

And  bird  he  starved,  he  stiffened  worm ; 

A  sightless  heaven,  a  shaven  land. 

Her  shivering  Spring  feigned  fast  asleep, 

The  bitten  buds  dared  not  unfold  : 

We  raced  on  roads  and  ice  to  keep 

Thought  of  the  girl  we  love  from  cold. 

But  now  the  North  wind  ceases, 
The  warm  South-west  awakes. 
The  heavens  are  out  in  fleeces. 
And  earth's  green  banner  shakes. 


r,  t 


EPITAPHS 


M.  M. 


Who  call  her  Mother  and  who  calls  her  Wife 
Look  on  her  grave  and  see  not  Death  but  Life. 


THE  LADY   C.   M. 

To  them  that  knew  her,  there  is  vital  flame 
In  these  the  simple  letters  of  her  name. 
To  them  that  knew  her  not,  be  it  but  said, 
So  strong  a  spirit  is  not  of  the  dead. 


J.  C.  M. 

A  FOUNTAIN  of  our  swectcst,  quick  to  spring 
In  fellowship  abounding,  here  subsides : 
And  never  passage  of  a  cloud  on  wing 
To  gladden  blue  forgets  him  ;  near  he  hides. 


466  EPITAPHS 


ISLET  THE  DACHS 

Our  Islet  out  of  Helgoland,  dismissed 

From  his  quaint  tenement,  quits  hates  and  loves. 

There  lived  with  us  a  wagging  humourist 

In  that  hound's  arch  dwarf -legged  on  boxing-gloves. 


GORDON   OF  KHAETOUM 

Of  men  he  would  have  raised  to  light  he  fell: 
In  soul  he  conquered  with  those  nerveless  hands. 
His  country's  pride  and  her  abasement  knell 
The  Man  of  England  circled  by  the  sands. 


THE  EMPEROR  FREDERICK  OF  OUR  TIME 

With  Alfred  and  St.  Louis  he  doth  win 
Grander  than  crowned  head's  mortuary  dome  : 
His  gentle  heroic  manhood  enters  in 
The  ever-flowering  common  heart  for  home. 


EPITAPHS  467 


THE  YEAR'S  SHEDDINGS 

The  varied  colours  are  a  fitful  heap  : 
They  pass  in  constant  service  though  they  sleep ; 
The  self  gone  out  of  them,  therewith  the  pain : 
Read  that,  who  still  to  spell  our  earth  remain. 


NOTES 


THEODOLINDA 


The  legend  of  the  Iron  Crown  of  Lombardy,  formed  of  a  nail  of 
the  true  Cross  by  order  of  the  devout  Queen  Theodolinda,  is  well 
known.  In  this  dramatic  song  she  is  seen  passing  through  one  of 
the  higher  temptations  of  the  believing  Christian. 


PHAETHON 

The  Galliambic  Measure 

Hermann  (Elementa  Doctrinae  Metricae),  after  citing  lines  from 
the  Tragic  poet  Phrynichus  and  from  the  Comic,  observes : 

Dixi  supra,  Phrynichorum  versus  videri  puros  lonicos  esse.  Id  si 
verum  est,  Galliambi  non  alia  re  ab  his  differunt,  quam  quod  ana- 
clasin,  contractionesque  et  solutiones  recipiunt.  Itaque  versus  Gal- 
Hambicus  ex  duobus  versibus  Anacreonteis  constat,  quorum  secundus 
catalecticus  est,  hac  forma : 


\J^ 


t  ± 


The  wonderful  Attis  of  Catullus  is  the  one  classic  example.  A  few 
lines  have  been  gathered  elsewhere.  Lord  Tennyson's  Boadicea 
rides  over  many  difficulties  and  is  a  noble  poem.  Catullus  makos 
general  use  of  the  variant  second  of  the  above  metrical  forms : 

Miki  januae  frequentes,  mihilimina  tepida: 

With  stress  on  the  emotion  ; 

Jam,  jam  dolet  quod  egi,  jam  j'amque poenitet. 

A  perfect  conquest  of  the  measure  is  not  possible  in  our  tongue. 
For  the  sake  of  an  occasional  success  in  the  velocity,  sweep,  volume 
of  the  line,  it  seems  worth  an  effort ;  and,  if  to  some  degree  service- 
able for  narrative  verse,  it  is  one  of  the  exercises  of  a  writer  which 
readers  may  be  invited  to  share.    . 


1 


4^ 

J 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


nB-im    I 


OFC    21978 

0LStP2  719# 

.  ISEP  8  i97g 


^cn  i\)-\m 


OCi  Y     I 


98& 


Form  T/i-S.Tiis  1  14 


UNIVERSITY  OV  CA 
AT 
LOS  ANGKLES 
LIBRARY 


ALIFORNIA  m 

LES  I 

1 


m 

^007 

Al 

1898 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  370  578    7 


